Possessive Impulse
by dipdipdipmyblueship
Summary: Sequel to "He's Come For Me". Frank's back, and he's not giving Carla up that easily. *warning for violence and mature subject matter.* ***BOOK COVER COURTESY OF LOVEECARLACONNOR***
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Thanks to wonderful reviews of _He's Come For Me_, I couldn't resist beginning the sequel. I've attached the conclusion of _He's Come For Me_ as the intro to this story.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, but I do own the story. :)**

**Reviews as always are greatly appreciated!**

* * *

His eyes scanned through the crowds; Couples romantically entwined with one another; groups attempting to stay together, parents holding their children's hands; all were bustling through the corridors with their suitcases and bags full of wrapped presents.

December 23rd – the busiest day for travel.

_It was the perfect cover._

Frank walked down to the customs counter, standing in the line with a passport in his hand. He kept his eyes down, avoiding contact with those around him. He felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up to see a police officer standing next to him.

"Excuse me sir," the officer said sternly, "might I trouble you to come with me please?"

"Might I ask what this is about?" Frank asked emotionless.

"I'd prefer it if you came with me first sir."

"Of course," Frank agreed, not wanting to make a scene, "but there really is no need for the formalities. I'll cooperate in any way I can."

The officer took hold of Frank's elbow and led him through a staff only access area. The halls winded round multiple areas until they reached two steel double doors. The officer opened them with a push and the sudden burst of sunlight was so blinding that Frank had to temporarily shield his eyes. He was led to a police car, where he was motioned to get in. Frank watched as the officer sat in the driver's seat and started the ignition.

"Thanks for grabbing my suitcase Donald." Frank stated

"Was a piece of cake Frank. This badge gets you an all access pass. How was the journey home?"

"Uneventful. The in-flight movie was some dreadful romantic comedy, and the food bordered on something you would get in a shelter." He grumbled.

"Well at least you got a tan out of your trip to L.A. eh?" Donald responded as he drove the car out of the car park.

"Yeah, and it was the only thing I got." Frank stated somberly. "I had her Don. I had her back in my arms, and back in my bed. And that insufferable Peter Barlow showed up on his bloody white horse and took her from me…again." He gritted out, glaring daggers into the back of the officer's head.

"I gotta tell you Frank, I didn't see that one coming. After Malone and I took their statements in the pub, I thought for sure he wasn't going to jet off to find his lover. I mean, I didn't think his wife would have let him go without a fight."

"That's why you are still a junior officer Don. You don't have your wits about you yet." Frank sighed, "What about Malone? Does she suspect anything? You?"

Don shook his head, "Nah. I replaced your confiscated passport with a fake. As far as she knows, it's still there. And as for me, she hasn't the slightest inclination of my involvement. She _is_ suspicious of your whereabouts, but I think we can maneuver around her. No one can prove you were ever in L.A."

Frank nodded slowly, "I made sure to pay cash for everything, and I used fake names. The only pressing matter was that Dr. Martin."

"Do we need to buy his silence?" Donald asked

Frank gave an evil smirk, "Oh no. I can assure you Dr. Martin will not be coming forward as a witness."

Donald gave him a knowing smile. "You do cover your tracks well Foster, I'll give you that."

Frank chuckled and looked out the window as they drove the streets of Manchester. He began to think of his raven-haired obsession and smiled at the thought of having her in his power once again. He had just a few small details to sort through before he could put his plan into action. _'When we meet again sweetheart,'_ he thought maliciously, _'you're going to wish you never left L.A.'_

"So tell me Donald," he asked leaning forward to lean on the seat ahead of him, "other than the dinner you spotted her out on with Barlow, what else has my lovely Carla been up to in my absence?"

* * *

Carla didn't see him step out of the pub in front of her until her chest collided with his. She stumbled back as he reached out to grab her.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Steve said as he steadied her, feeling her tense slightly beneath his touch; she flashed him a smile of gratitude as she fixed her handbag, "Sorry Carla, I should really be watching where I'm going."

"It's okay, I should have been watching an' all. Where you off to in a huff then?" she quipped noticing the anger etched on his features.

"Ohhh I dunno. I'm just trying to sort this mess with Tracy out." He stated exasperated, and she gave him a sympathetic look.

"Oh right, yeah, Peter told me she miscarried the twins. I'm so sorry Steve." She said as she laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"They were murdered, more like…," he grumbled.

"How d'you mean?" she asked confused.

He leaned in closer and in a voice just above a whisper said "Becky pushed her down the stairs. That's why she miscarried."

"Becky?" Carla stated incredulously, "You are joking?"

"Nope. Wanted the twins out of the way." He huffed angrily, placing his hands in his coat pockets.

"I don't believe that." Carla stated.

"Oh so Tracy is lying is she?" Steve asked aggressively, and she took a step back fear overtaking her momentarily. "Sorry," he apologized softly, noticing her discomfort, "it's been a rough couple of weeks. I shouldn't have snapped at you."

She looked to the ground, "It's okay Steve, just an unfortunate side effect of…you know." She looked next to her at the busy pub as she tried to control the emotions running through her, before looking back into his eyes. "Look, it's none of my business Steve. But I know Becky; and I know she would never cause someone to go through what she went through, alright? No woman would wish that on her worst enemy…" her voice cracked as she spoke, "Just don't give a dog a bad name and hang 'im eh?"

Steve softened at her words, "I guess you would understand what both her and Tracy have gone through an' all?" Steve said softly and she nodded her head slowly, shifting her bag on her shoulder and looking anywhere but in his eyes. "You know," he began carefully, "Tracy doesn't really have anyone to talk to about it…maybe you would be willing to confide-"

"No!" Carla snapped abruptly, before sighing deeply, "No Steve, I'm sorry I would rather not bring up that part of my life if it's all the same with you. Plus, Tracy isn't exactly known for keeping her gob shut is she?"

"Hmm I s'pose you're right about that. Sorry I didn't mean to drag up any bad memories for ya-" he stated sympathetically

"It's fine Steve, really. Look give Tracy my sympathies, but again I'd appreciate it if you kept my having had a miscarriage between us yeah?" She asked pointedly.

"What miscarriage?" Peter asked suddenly from behind Steve causing them both to jump. He had just closed the Bookies for the holidays when he saw Carla and Steve talking in front of the pub. He looked at her with a worried expression. Carla's face had gone pale as she tried desperately to think of an explanation. Steve saw her discomfort and turned to face Peter trying to deflect the question.

"Uhhhh miscarriage of justice. You know the whole Frank thing." He turned back to Carla, smirking as he was clearly satisfied with his response. The smirk was replaced with an apologetic expression as she stood there shaking her head at him in disbelief at his pathetic deflection attempt.

"Well I best be off, you know only two shopping days left before Christmas, so uhh Carla? I will see you around soon, and Peter? See you at Christmas dinner." Steve excused himself quickly from between the pair and Carla closed her eyes in annoyance as he brushed past her. When she re-opened them, Peter stood closer to her, still waiting for an explanation.

"Drop it Peter." She stated defensively and went to walk past him. He grabbed her elbow and pulled her in close to him.

"Hey, come on Car. We've been through too much these past few weeks; with L.A. and your amnesia. Please love, don't shut me out now." He whispered softly as he caressed her cheek, noticing the way she melted at his touch, "This miscarriage….was it Frank's?" He tried. The mention of his name caused her to tense and she yanked her elbow away from his grasp.

"It is none of your business. Now leave me **alone**." She gritted out before storming off in the direction of her flat.

Peter watched her walk away. '_Oh no,_' he thought. _'She's not getting off that easily'_. He turned on his heel and followed her down the road.

She could feel him behind her and she quickened her pace, her heels clicking on the cement, refusing to stop or look over her shoulder at him. She made it to her flat and hurried up the stairs. She heard his footsteps stop behind her, and she knew he wasn't going to leave her alone. She turned the key and pushed open the door knowing he would follow her inside. She threw her purse onto the sofa and removed her coat. She stood with her back to Peter, hugging her abdomen with one arm and raising the other hand to her chin, the backs of her fingers grazing her lips.

He was behind her in a flash, wrapping his arms around her. He felt her body go rigid in his arms, still uncomfortable with being held so close after all that happened with Frank, but he refused to let go. He needed her to start trusting him; to start trusting his touch. Within a few minutes her muscles relaxed into his embrace. His fingers gently pulled the hair from the side of her face, exposing her cheek and neck.

"Baby," he whispered into her ear softly, "Don't push me away. Please tell me what happened."

"It wasn't Frank's baby I miscarried Peter," she said shakily, "it were Paul's."

"Paul's?" Peter asked, "Paul Connor? When?" He felt her shake her head in response, not wanting to continue. He carefully turned her around to face him, lifting her chin with two of his fingers so that she was forced to look into his eyes. "When, Carla?"

She sighed deeply, and looked off to the side of her flat. "Ermm,-"

He could see she was struggling, and moved to sit her down on the sofa, before sitting down next to her, gently grasping her hands in his and laying a kiss on her knuckles. "Take your time sweetheart," he encouraged.

"It were two months after Paul died. I had taken the rest of the afternoon off at the factory and told Liam I was going to move back here. He thought it were too soon, and I knew he was right," She breathed intensely before continuing, "but the truth was I was also feeling off the whole day and really wanted to be back in my own space, you know? Steve was driving the cab, and I started feeling really uncomfortable pains in my stomach. I just kept shifting in the back seat, trying to get comfortable, unsure of what it was. I ran up the stairs to the flat, telling Steve I thought I was going to throw up …"

_Steve lugged the suitcase and clothes up the flight of stairs, cursing Carla for not helping him with the load. He pushed open the door to her flat and rolled the suitcase along the floor, leaning it up against the dining table. "Okay madam," he called sarcastically, "I have brought all your things in, and now Jeeves is going home." He threw the hangers full of clothes over the back of a chair when he froze, having heard a cry of pain coming from the bedroom._

"_Carla?" he called out, slowly making his way to the door of the bedroom. He could hear her gasping for air, and he quickened his pace; fearing she was being attacked on the other side of the door. He heard a heart wrenching cry and he thrust the door open; his hand flying up to his mouth and his eyes widening in terror._

_Carla sat on the floor at the side of her bed, propping herself into a seated position; her fists were gripping the material of the bedspread, her head pressing into the mattress. Her face was contorted in agony, and her white trousers were soaked in blood. She raised her tear stained eyes to meet his,_

"_Please…" she begged hoarsely before another wave of pain overtook her body, and she gripped her stomach, squeezing her eyes shut and letting out a strangled scream. _

_Steve pulled out his mobile, quickly calling for an ambulance. He heard someone enter the flat and quickly rushed to meet the person there._

"_Liam." He breathed a sigh of relief. _

"_Look I know what she's gonna say, that she's tough and can handle it-" Liam started as he walked towards the bedroom._

"_Liam-" Steve began, raising both hands in front of him as he blocked Liam's path, _

"_- But trust me, I know what really lies underneath that icy surface, and as much as she wants to deny it I know this is gonna be 'ard for her-"_

"_Liam-" Steve tried a little more aggressively. A slight sob, emitted from the bedroom and Liam threw his hands out to either side of him knowingly,_

"_You see? What did I tell you, I knew she was gonna need some help today, but noooo the silly cow just thinks she can 'andle it all herself-"_

"_Liam!" Steve raised his voice, placing his hands on the younger man's chest and giving him a gentle push backwards._

"_It's alright mate, you can quit the bodyguard act-" he was silenced by the ear piercing scream that came from Carla's bedroom. _

_Steve watched as the blood drained from Liam's face. His eyes widened in fear and he looked from Steve's worried face to the door._

"_Car?" Liam shouted as he brushed past Steve and flew into the bedroom. His hands raised to either side of his head at the scene before him, clenching fistfuls of hair between his fingers. _

'_So much blood' he thought panicking. Tears flooded his eyes as he quickly made his way across the room and sat in front of her, reaching for her shoulders. She immediately released her grip on the bedspread, reaching instead for his collar, pulling her face towards his chest, _

"_I…don't…know…what's…happening…" she breathed out between sobs._

_He cradled her head and stroked her hair soothingly, "You're gonna be okay darlin'. Where does it hurt Carla love?" _

"_My…stomach…." She gave a grunt of discomfort as another stabbing pain pulsed through her abdomen. _

"_Did you call an ambulance?" Liam asked throwing a glance over his shoulder at Steve, who nodded in reply as he bit his fingernails nervously._

_Liam turned his attention back to his sister-in-law as he pulled her closer towards him and continued to stroke her hair, swaying her back and forth soothingly as she cried into his chest, "It's okay sweet'eart, I'm here now shhhh…"_

_Three hours later he nervously paced the corridor of the hospital outside of Carla's room, as she was attended to by the nurses and doctor. The smell of disinfectant filled his nostrils and he found himself becoming nauseous; remembering standing in the same hospital not two months' prior, holding a distraught Carla in his arms. His jeans and t-shirt bore dried remnants of her blood and he absentmindedly fingered the stains. He had told Steve not to mention the situation to Michelle as he jumped into the back of the ambulance with Carla, and his sister's boyfriend nodded his understanding. He held her hand the whole way to the hospital as she was given a primary assessment by the paramedics._

"_How far along is she?" the paramedic had whispered to him out of Carla's earshot, and he looked confused for a moment before it dawned on him. She was pregnant; pregnant with Paul's baby._

_He felt a hand tap his shoulder and he spun to face the doctor._

"_Mr. Connor-" the doctor began gently_

"_How is she?" Liam interrupted him_

"_Mr. Connor, Mrs. Connor is fine all things considered;" the doctor took a deep breath, before continuing, "but I'm afraid she has lost the baby." Liam shook his head in denial._

"_No, no you don't understand," his voice was quivering, his eyes filling with tears as he lowered his voice, not wanting Carla to overhear him, "She just lost her husband two months ago. This was the only thing she had left of him, please…" he pleaded with him, "…please you gotta be able to do something."_

_The doctor looked into his beseeching eyes and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, "I'm very sorry Mr. Connor. There is nothing more we can do except keep Mrs. Connor as comfortable as possible." Liam bit his lip and looked down the corridor, avoiding eye contact with the doctor._

"_Can I see her now?"_

"_Yes of course you can." He guided Liam into the room before walking down the hallway to file his report._

_She was lying on her side, staring at a spot on the wall. She didn't look up as he entered the room, nor into his eyes as he knelt in front of her._

"_Carla?" he whispered softly._

"_I lost it Liam." She stated emotionlessly, her eyes red and puffy from crying. _

"_I know darlin'." He stroked her hand reassuringly._

"_Go on, say it." She challenged him._

"_Say what?" he shook his head in confusion._

"_That I'm such a cold hearted bitch that I can't even keep a baby warm in my womb." Her voice wavered and cracked, as tears filled her eyes._

"_Sweet'eart," he soothed, as he caressed her face, "this wasn't your fault love."_

"_I didn't even know, Liam. I was four months pregnant and I didn't even know." She looked into his eyes and he felt the sudden urge to reach out and hold her close to him; to envelope her in his arms and shield her from everything and anything that could harm her. She continued, her voice hoarse from crying, "Paul must be so ashamed of me now. Letting the one thing he left me with slip through my fingers 'cause I'm such a selfish cow…" He rose to his feet, and kicked off his trainers. Walking to the other side of the bed he slipped in behind her, spooning her body against his, as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. He could feel her body trembling as she cried, and he felt himself begin to cry as he kissed her temple._

"_Paul loved you so much Carla. He loved you so much that he wanted to take a piece of you with him. You didn't lose the baby Car; he's with his dad…keeping him company while they wait for you."_

_He felt her turn in the bed, her arms linking around his neck as she scuttled closer to him, clinging to him as she cried into his chest._

"_We'll get through this together Carla." Liam said resting his cheek on top of her head and stroking her hair, "And I promise I'll start bein' nicer to you, okay boss?" He felt her chuckle against him,_

"_Don't you dare…I might get used to it." She whispered, as he pulled her close._

"I didn't realize it at the time, but that's when Liam started getting overly protective of me." Carla stated. She wasn't crying, but her eyes were filled with unbridled emotion.

"I think he was always overly protective of you…that's why he came to the flat before it even happened." Peter whispered, "he loved you very much Carla."

She nodded softly, "No one but Steve knows about this now Liam's gone. I pushed it so far into the back of my mind that I thought I'd moved on. But after seeing Steve's face today…it was like reliving it all over again." She whispered, finally raising her eyes to look into Peters'. He brought his hand up to caress her cheek.

"Thanks for letting me in." he said, leaning forward and kissing her forehead. He pulled back and looked into her eyes; they were wrought with emotion and desire. She leaned forward and brushed his lips with hers. Their kiss became passionate, she gently held his head, pulling him ever closer to her, his hands tangled into her hair, their desires overpowering one another. She broke the kiss, and leaned her forehead against his.

"I need you Peter." She whispered. He pulled back to look into her eyes, his fingers grazing the side of her face, gently pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Are you sure?" he asked gently not wanting to rush her, but she nodded in response.

"I'm sure." She kissed him gently before pulling back and looking into his eyes, "please Peter...please make love to me?"

He stood up from the sofa, and scooped her up into his arms, kissing her passionately as he walked into her bedroom, shutting the door with his foot behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Thank you all for the reviews! As I began to mull out the plot for this story I'm contemplating changing the rating of the story to M to be on the safe side due to violence and mature subject matter in later chapters. I'll see how it pans out, but fair warning.**_

_**Speaking of 'M' ratings...I am horrible at writing explicit sexual scenes. This is as explicit as I can go without blushing like mad.**_

_**The story will be getting to the nitty gritty over the next few chapters. **_

_**The lyrics are from the song May I by Trading Yesterday.**_

_**Hope you all enjoy. I am aiming to get the next chapter up asap. :)**_

* * *

"_**May I hold you, as you fall to sleep?**_

_**When the world is closing in, and you can't breathe**_

_**May I love you? May I be your shield?**_

_**When no one can be found, may I lay you down?"**_

He lay her gently on the bed, keeping his arms wrapped around her. Their kisses became fevered and hungry. As he began to open the buttons of her blouse, he felt her body go rigid. He raised his head from hers to look into her eyes, and gently cupped her cheek,

"If you want to stop, we'll stop."

She shook her head, "I don't want to stop." Her voice was just above a whisper but it was strong.

He nodded his head and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, "If you change your mind at any time, we will stop whenever you want to, okay sweetheart? I promise."

She nodded her understanding and leaned up to capture his lips with hers.

He made sure to move slow; he carefully removed her blouse and pants. His eyes were lovingly taking in every inch of her, as he removed his shirt and jeans. He lay next to her, caressing her body gently, laying gentle kisses on her lips, her eyelids, her neck. She moaned in response to his touches. Under normal circumstances he'd want to prolong the inevitable as long as possible...but this was not the right time. This was her first time after Frank, and it was their first time together. This time, he simply wanted to banish all the bad memories that threatened to taint her from every being intimate with anyone again.

He moved to kneel between her legs, removing her underwear and bra. She began to tremble beneath him, and he leaned over her, kissing her lips softly but passionately in reassurance. She wrapped her arms around him; her fingers gently grazing his back. He let out a gasp at her touch, as he removed his boxers. He looked into her eyes, which were wet with desire, and lovingly stroked her arm that now held the back of his head. He felt her body tense and shudder as he eased into her. Her body trembled, and she bit her lip to steady her breathing.

He caressed her arm, "do you want to stop?" he asked softly, but she shook her head.

"No, I want this…I want you." She whispered.

He kissed her lips and eased deeper into her; moving in a slow gentle rhythm as she began to relax in his arms. Her legs that clung to him almost apprehensively at first, now loosened their grip on his thighs and allowed him deeper access. She felt so good that it took every bit of control he had to not go quicker. Instead he continued caressing her gently and kissing her passionately as he wrapped his arms under her shoulders, holding her ever closer to him. Her breaths became labored, and soft moans emitted from her, as she threw her head back. He lay kisses along her neck and jawline, causing her to gasp in desire. He felt her hands cling to his shoulders and he looked into her eyes.

"Please Peter…" she softly begged him and he groaned in response, beginning to pick up speed and thrust deeper into her as her fingernails dug into his shoulders; He felt her tighten around him as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her body; she closed her eyes, letting out a soft cry in ecstasy. He continued to pump quicker, feeling his own orgasm nearing; she opened her eyes and looked into his, her hand now cupping his face. His closed his eyes and groaned in pleasure as he felt himself climax; he slowed his thrusts down to a leisurely rhythm as he opened his eyes and leaned down to capture her lips with his.

He held her for the next few hours as she slipped into a nightmare-free sleep. He kissed her head, and continued to pull her closer to his body as he himself drifted off; afraid that if he let go, she'd be ripped from his arms forever. He finally had her back and he finally gave in to his feelings for her; he wasn't going to let her go now.

* * *

Frank kept his head low as he watched the residents of Coronation Street make their way into the Rovers for their Christmas Eve celebrations. He watched one couple in particular, feeling jealousy course through his veins at the sight of their hands intertwined as they spoke to Michelle and her now husband Ciaran.

He felt his fist clench watching them as Peter's free hand caressed her back. She wasn't jumpy or tense under _his_ touch; his lips curled into a sneer and he felt his blood boil with envy. She let out a laugh at some flirty comment Ciaran made towards her and he felt his heart flutter. His gaze became transfixed on her. Her dark hair gently blowing in the wind; her face illuminated by the twinkling lights on the nearby houses. She looked worn and fragile, and yet her beauty was still unparalleled.

He needed her.

He watched as Ciaran and Michelle walked towards the pub, closely followed by Carla and Peter. She stopped before entering the doors and looked over her shoulder across the street to where he was standing in the shadows. He held his breath in anticipation.

"What's the matter love?" Peter asked her.

Her eyes darted up and down the street suspiciously, before resting across the street where she could have sworn she saw a figure in the darkness.

She shook her head, "I just had the strangest feeling that we were being watched is all." She looked into his eyes and gave him a reassuring smile, "I'm sorry, I'm just being paranoid." She leaned in and gave him a kiss on the lips, before turning again and walking into the pub. Peter looked curiously across the street to where Carla had just moments earlier, before disposing of his cigarette in the canister and following her into the Rovers.

Frank slowly edged his head around the corner of the wall, watching Peter's retreating back.

"Oh Carla," he whispered to the darkness. "I'll be seeing you very soon." He smirked evilly and turned on his heel, walking away from Coronation Street.

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Michelle started as Ciaran brought them all a round of drinks, "_You'll_ be looking after Liam while Maria's away?"

Carla pursed her lips together and nodded, "Well yeah, me and Kirk. Her cousin's husband in Mallorca died so suddenly and she wants to leave immediately and Kirk won't be going to the funeral. So she leaves tomorrow morning, and Kirk will take Liam for Christmas and New Years Eve, and I'm going to have him in between to give him a bit of a break."

Michelle smirked, "well who would've thought it eh? Auntie Carla offering to babysit for more than a day…" she snorted as she took a sip of her wine.

"Oi cheeky!" Carla stated as she playfully slapped her arm. "I 'appen to love that little lad."

Peter sipped his orange juice and played with Carla's hand that was resting on the table, "And he definitely loves you. You should have seen him the day Si and I went over to her flat," Peter's face lit up with a smile as he looked from Michelle to Ciaran, "Carla was on the floor helping Liam pick up his toys right? Well when Si and I walk in, Carla stands up and that little lad immediately went to stand next to her, wrapping his little arms around her leg and leaning his head against her thigh." He looked over to Carla, whose eyes were staring intently on her wine glass, a blush rising across her cheeks. He reached out and brushed her hair out of her face, "it was the probably the cutest thing I've ever seen," he said as he planted a gentle kiss on her cheek.

"Yeah, Ryan used to do that with her too when he were small." Michelle stated knowingly.

Carla's eyes shot up to meet hers, "How did you know about that?" she exclaimed.

"Our Liam spilled the beans. I'm telling you Peter, every time Dean and I would leave Ryan with Carla and Paul for the day or the weekend, and Liam or anyone else would come to visit the flat, Ryan would wrap himself around Carla's leg."

Carla ran her fingers through her hair apprehensively, "Paul said it was 'cause I generate an abnormal amount of heat. Said kids love feeling the warmth of someone's skin…." She gave a chuckle, "eh, it used to drive my Paul crazy though. Said sleeping next to me was like sleeping near a volcano." She smiled fondly at the memory her eyes looking up to the ceiling, "he'd have to keep a fan next to his side of the bed just so he could try to maintain a normal body temperature."

"Well it is true, you do emit quite a bit of heat for someone with such bloody cold feet." Peter joked taking another sip of his juice.

"You complaining an' all?" she asked playfully as she rose her eyebrows.

"No no not at all. I might need to borrow that fan though if I plan on staying over for the week after tomorrow." He nudged her with his shoulder.

Michelle shuffled in the booth until she was sitting next to Carla, and reached her arms around her shoulders, leaning her head in to rest on her friend's. "Our Liam said it was the sweetest thing he ever saw, you know? And despite what our big brother said, Liam thought the _actual_ reason Ryan clinged to your leg wasn't because of your heat, but because you made him feel safe. Liam always said you would make a great mom one day, even if you wouldn't admit it to yourself."

Carla bit her lip and felt her eyes brimming with tears. Between the talk about the miscarriage with Peter yesterday and this conversation, she slowly felt herself coming undone. Frank's attack on her had left her an emotional wreck; unable to suppress her feelings under the icy exterior she once wore. She plastered on a smile and looked from Michelle to Peter before stating softly, "I'm just gonna nip to the loo."

Peter stepped out of the booth, allowing her to slide out before sitting back down.

"Was it sommit I said?" Michelle asked sadly.

"Nah," Peter said shaking his head. "Her emotions are just a little high you know."

Carla pushed open the door to the ladies bathroom running straight into Leanne.

"Hey! Easy there!" Leanne chuckled, her face falling upon seeing the tears streaming down Carla's face. "Car? You okay love?"

"Yeah, yeah just umm the holidays you know…bit emotional." Carla stated dismissively, turning on the sink taps and running a napkin under it. She dabbed at her eyes with the wet cloth, trying to clear up the mascara smudges.

Leanne stepped up close to her, leaning her body against the sink. She took the napkin out of Carla's shaking hand and gently cupped her cheek with the other. She brought the napkin up to the brunette's face, gently wiping off the smudges under her eyes. Carla looked into Leanne's eyes as her former best friend helped her clean up. Leanne grabbed another napkin and ran it under the cool water, before pressing it around Carla's forehead effectively cooling her skin.

"Thank you." She whispered, her voice cracking.

"Don't mention it." Leanne smiled at her. "Can't have you looking a fright on Christmas Eve now can we?"

"I don't deserve your kindness." Carla whispered, lowering her eyes.

Leanne sighed, "Look Carla, I know we've been through a bit this last year Carla, but we were great mates once. I'd like us to be again."

"I'd really like that Lea." Carla sniffled, "I really would."

"Oi! Don't you start again! I just cleaned up your ugly mug!" Leanne joked and Carla let out a laugh before looking seriously at Leanne.

"I really want to thank you Leanne, you know, for not hanging up when I called from L.A." she said quietly, and Leanne shuddered at the memory:

_Leanne swallowed and tried to catch her breath, "Was Frank in at work today?"_

_"Foster?" Becky asked confused, "No. No he's on a business trip to New York."_

_Leanne's eyes widened, "When did he leave?"_

_"Two days ago. You know it were a bit odd actually, didn't think he'd have access to his passport, you know, considerin'."_

_"No!" Leanne breathed before turning and running towards the pub,_

_"Carla! Lock the doors and ring the police!" she ordered into her mobile as she made her way to the Rovers._

_"Lea?" Peter put a hand on her shoulder._

_"It's Carla!"_

_"What about Carla?" Michelle asked harshly stepping forward._

_Leanne took a breath still clutching her mobile to her ear, "Someone showed up to Susie's last night looking for her," she gulped some air into her lungs, "said their name was Peter Barlow,"_

_Peter's head darted around to look at Ciaran and Michelle before coming to rest on Leanne again, "you what?"_

_"I think it might have something to do with Frank," Becky interjected._

_Leanne's face suddenly went white and the faint sound of a woman screaming could be heard through her mobile. _

"After hearing you scream Carla, before the line went dead, I thought that was it." She shook her head, her eyes not lifting from the floor, "I thought, 'I may never see my best mate again' without telling her I'm sorry for all that happened between us. And I'll tell you what Carla: that thought alone killed me." She looked up into Carla's eyes. "I thought I would never forgive you for what you did with Peter last year; but I'm no angel either. And I know I was just lashing out at you because of my own screwed up feelings for Nick. It'll still be hard to see you two together, but I have to admit you are a better match than him and I were." Carla lowered her eyes, guilt consuming her.

"You understand him better than I did," Leanne continued, "and you two…I dunno…you just fit, as much as it pains me to admit that."

"I'm so sorry about everything Lea-" Carla began

"Don't, Carla." Leanne stated as she gripped her shoulders, forcing her to look up. "I'm just happy that we can all get along, and that Simon isn't going to be affected by a messy divorce."

"You'll always be his mum," Carla admitted truthfully. "You're a better mother to him than I could ever hope to be, to any child."

Leanne nodded, "Probably, right now anyways. But I had three years with him, and I tell you some days I didn't know what the hell I was doing…sometimes I still don't; so don't sell yourself short; And when the time comes when you will be a mother-figure to him, I'll be around to help you out. And he'll be lucky to have you in his life, if for nothing else but the shopping."

Carla laughed, grateful that the conversation was becoming lighter, "You know I'm not very good at the yucky stuff," she said, referring to the conversation they had in the washroom on the night Liam died. "Are we supposed to hug now or sommit?" Carla asked, a cheeky grin spreading across her features.

Leanne smirked, remembering the conversation well, and stuck out her hand, "we can shake hands if you prefer?" They both giggled before pulling each other into a hug.

"Happy Christmas Carla." she whispered into her ear.

"Happy Christmas Leanne." Carla whispered back.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Surprised myself at how quick I fleshed this one out.**_

_**Enjoy!**_

* * *

Peter sat in the Rovers with Ciaran and Michelle. Ken and Dierdre had just said their goodnights as they took Amy and Simon back to their house to ring in the new year. At the bar, Leanne and Nick stood leaning close to each other. They had closed the Bistro for the night, wanting to ring in the new year at the Rovers with family and friends. He took a swig of his orange juice. He kept glancing anxiously to the door, expecting to see Carla walk through them wearing the crown Michelle gave her earlier that day. He glanced at his watch

11:50 p.m. _'She should have been here by now.'_ He thought nervously.

Carla had insisted on remaining at the flat to finish getting ready on her own, claiming she needed a bit of space.

"_Peter please!" Carla exasperated as she finished packing Liam's bag, and turned to face him. "Look, I know you want to protect me alright, but I just need to get some of me independence back. Frank took so much from me; he's left me an emotional wreck and completely dependent on others…I just need to regain some control of my life. Please, can you understand that?" she stood in front of him, holding his face in her hands, her eyes pleading with him._

"_Of course I do love, I just-" he trailed off, closing his eyes and sighing deeply, "-I just can't lose you again."_

_She caressed his cheek with her thumb and kissed him passionately. She broke the kiss and looked lovingly into his eyes_

"_Look, Kirk will be picking up Liam around 11:30pm, and Gary offered to come with him. They are both going to walk me back to Coronation Street together. Until then, I just need to get ready on me own. And look, I promise not to open the door to anyone that I don't know, okay?"_

_He sighed, "Okay. But if you're not at the pub by ten minutes to midnight I'm coming to find you."_

"_Deal!" she smiled at him and gave him another kiss. "You know…you don't have to leave just this minute, and Liam's down for a nap..." she stated seductively, "can I interest you in a shower?" _

_He smiled at her, "I thought you'd never ask." He leaned down and captured her lips with his, deepening the kiss and walking her backwards towards the bathroom as she giggled against his lips._

"Mr. Barlow?" a voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked up to see DC Malone standing in front of him.

"Yes officer, what can I do for you?" he asked.

"I come bearing some bad news I'm afraid." Malone sat in the booth opposite him. "I rang Miss Connor but there doesn't seem to be any response. I've sent my junior officer Donald Fitzgerald around to speak with her."

"Wait there's no answer at Carla's?" Michelle asked interrupting.

"We only rang her about ten minutes ago. I'm assuming she might have been out or on her way out." Malone responded.

"Michelle, why don't you send her a text yeah?" Peter suggested. Michelle nodded and pulled out her phone, "So what is this bad news then?" Peter asked, he began to feel uneasy about Carla not answering her phone.

"Miss Connor's witness to Mr Foster's appearance in Los Angeles was a Dr. Martin, correct?" Malone asked.

"Yeah. He was one and there were two nurses as well." Peter replied.

"Two nurses?" Malone asked confused.

"Yeah, they were the reason we knew where to start looking in the first place. They brought her in to the hospital." Peter felt his stomach rumble with nervousness, "why what's going on?"

"Did Mr Foster know about the nurses involvement in your finding Miss Connor?" Malone asked

"Not unless he was psychic. Look what is going on?" he pressed angrily.

"I'm going to need their names and addresses immediately." Malone stated firmly pulling out her notepad

"I'll text Gary." Ciaran stated pulling out his mobile.

"**_What the hell is going on_**?" Peter shouted, drawing attention from the other punters.

"Mr. Barlow, Dr. Martin has been found dead." Malone stated emotionlessly. "It seemed to be impaired driving at first, but preliminary evidence now suggests signs of a struggle."

Peter tried to process the information he was just told when the door opening caught his attention, his heart leapt in his chest upon seeing Gary and Kirk with no Carla in sight. He immediately stood up and approached them.

"Where's Carla?"

"There was an officer at her flat, saying he needed to speak to her. So she told us to come back in 20 minutes." Kirk stated.

"We were just about to head back but thought we'd check in to see if you wanted to tag along." Gary asked, before motioning to DC Malone "What's going on?"

"Dr Martin has been found dead." Ciaran filled him in, "and apparently they didn't know about the two nurses being witnesses as well. We were wondering if you could you contact Dennis and Marcus and ask them for their names and addresses?" Gary nodded and pulled out his mobile.

"Here's my information Mr?" Malone began

"Windass, Gary Windass." Gary responded accepting the card she handed him.

"Thank you Mr Windass. Please contact me the moment you hear from your friends."

"Will do, yeah." Gary stated as he busily composed a text.

"I'll be in touch." Malone stated giving a curt nod to Peter, Michelle and Ciaran.

"Okay, Peter I'm really getting worried now." Michelle said panic filling her voice, "Carla's not responding to any of my texts and when I just called the land line I got a busy signal."

"Is she on the phone you think?" Ciaran asked.

"She has call waiting." Michelle responded. "I'm going over there…I've got a bad feeling." She hurriedly grabbed her coat, panic taking over her features.

She quickly pushed herself up and shoved her way out of the busy pub, as the countdown to midnight began.

* * *

"Thank you for your time Miss Connor," Donald said as he rose to his feet. Carla stood up with him, shifting Liam's weight so he rested on her hip. "I'm sorry if it cut into your New Years Eve plans." He said as he walked towards the door.

"Well I appreciate you giving me the heads' up about Dr. Martin." Carla stated as she picked up her purse and Liam's bag, slinging them both over her shoulder.

"Well DC Malone wanted to come herself, but she thought it best to divide and conquer as it were; she goes to speak to Peter Barlow, and I come to speak to you." Donald turned to look at her. "Can I give you a lift to Coronation Street?" He asked.

"Oh, uhh you know what? That would be a great help actually. I might be able to just make it to the Rovers just after midnight." She said glancing to the clock. _11:55 pm._

"Well maybe I can say the clocks were all ahead or sommit." She chuckled. Donald gave an evil smirk as she turned her head back towards the sofa. Using her momentary distraction, he unlocked the door behind him. "Oh, you know what?" she said carefully placing Liam, her purse and his bag on the sofa, "I'm just gonna ring Michelle and tell her to stop Gary and Kirk from coming back." She walked across the room and picked up the cordless phone.

"Oh Miss Connor, I should also warn you: Frank Foster has been spotted in the country." Donald stated quietly. She had just turned the phone on before whipping around to face him; her face went pale.

"Eh?" she said quietly. He didn't respond; he simply looked at her as she walked back towards the sofa. She felt her stomach flutter with nervousness. "Why didn't you bring that up before?" she asked incredulously.

"Well I'm telling you now." He stated emotionlessly.

Without removing her eyes from the officer she said "Liam darling? Can you go into Auntie Carla's room please?" Liam jumped off the sofa and moved towards the bedroom; she ruffled his hair as he entered the room, before flicking on the light switch and closing the door.

"Well-" she breathed deeply, placing one hand on her hip and raised the phone to rest on her chin, forgetting it was still turned on, as she looked about the flat. "Well where was he seen?"

"Manchester Airport." He responded moving closer to her. "On December 23rd."

"December 23rd?" she snapped at him, "December 23rd! Well that's just great, he can be anywhere right now, can't he?"

"Well we know where he is." He said smirking and she felt her body tense with fear.

"Where?"

"Closer than you think." He whispered, as the door to her flat pushed open and Frank sauntered in. Carla's eyes widened in terror as she began to move backwards away from them.

Donald grabbed her arm and she viciously pushed him back; adrenaline coursing through her veins as she tried desperately to reach her bedroom and protect Liam. He recovered quickly, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her back into his body, the phone flying out of her grasp and behind her onto the floor.

"Ohh I can see why you like this one Foster," his breath was hot on her ear, as his hand snaked up under her shirt, touching the skin of her abdomen, "I like women with a bit of feistiness in 'em."

"Not part of the deal Donald." Frank stated as he walked around them and stood in front of Carla. Her head was pulled back, her hands trying to pry her hair out of Donald's grasp. Her eyes were wild and fearful as Frank stepped closer to her.

He reached out a hand and stroked her face. "Did you miss me Carla?" She garnered whatever strength she had in her and spat in his face. Donald spun her towards him and delivered a powerful backhand across her face, causing her to crash onto the side table, sending the water glasses smashing to pieces around her. She held her hand to her stinging cheek, venomously staring at them both as she gripped the now overturned table with one arm leaning her body against it. Frank wiped the spittle away with a smirk before crouching down in front of her, watching as her body trembled in fear at his closeness. "I think you better be nicer to me Carla," he stated darkly as he pulled something out of his pocket, "Donald go and get Liam please."

"No!" Carla shouted as she lunged forward only to find herself pushed back by Frank as he pressed a handkerchief over her mouth and nose. She gripped at the table, as she tried desperately to breath. A sweet smell filled her nostrils and her vision became blurry; her hearing became faint and her muscles relaxed involuntarily. She felt herself being dragged away from the table. Her fingers digging into the varnish, feeling it peel beneath her nails as she was dragged across the floor. She could faintly hear Liam crying, before everything went black.

Frank looked down at her motionless form, pulling another handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping it across her mouth. Donald had taken Liam and his bag out of the flat and Frank scooped Carla up into his arms. He gently kissed her lips,

"Happy New Year Sweetheart." He whispered as he walked out of the flat, pulling the door slightly shut behind him.

* * *

She ran across the pavement, hearing the pounding of feet behind her. She reached the Draper Mill Flats main entrance and hastily thrust the key into the lock, turning it with such haste she thought it would break. She pulled the door towards her, flinging it to the side; not waiting to see if the men behind her were able to catch it before it closed.

She raced up the stairs, two at a time before coming face to face with the door marked number 4.

She breathed shakily, seeing the door was left ajar.

"Michelle!" Ciaran called as he reached the top of the staircase, followed closely by Peter.

They stood in stunned silence staring at the door. Her face contorted in anger before she pushed the door open. She let out a strangled gasp, at the sight.

Carla's flat was empty; broken glass littered the hardwood, and the phone was strewn across the floor. Faint fingernail marks could be seen etched onto the overturned coffee table, as if someone had clung to it for their life, before being brutally dragged from it.

"No." Peter breathed out. "No not again."

Michelle bent forward and picked up the New Years Eve crown, Carla was meant to wear that night. She held it to her chest, closing her eyes tightly.

She would not cry this time.

This time, she was pulsing with rage.

"Foster is going to pay this time." She heard Peter remark viciously from behind her. "This time…I'm gonna kill him!" She found herself nodding in agreement.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Thank you all for the generous reviews! I'm glad you are enjoying it.**_

_** :)**_

* * *

"Excuse me?" DC Malone shouted towards Stella trying to be heard over the New Years' celebrations.

"Yes love, what can I get you?" Stella asked approaching her. She paused as the officer flashed her badge.

"I'm DC Malone of the Weatherfield police, and this is Trainee Detective Constable Donald Fitzgerald. And you can get me all your punters attention for a start." Malone said as she put her badge away. Stella nodded curtly walking out from behind the bar and unplugging the jukebox. The inebriated residents of Weatherfield began groaning and shouting their disproval. Peter, Michelle, and Ciaran entered the pub; all looking somber and angry. Tracy left Steve's side and approached her step-brother tentatively.

"Peter? Are you alright?" she asked softly, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder. He didn't respond in words, just shook his head before hearing Malone's voice boom across the pub.

"May I have your attention please?" She shouted futilely over the noise. Seeing she was getting nowhere, Karl rang the bell behind the bar.

"Oi you lot! Listen up!" he shouted and a quiet descended over the pub.

"Thank you." Malone acknowledged him before turning to face the crowd. "Approximately 30 to 45 minutes ago, Carla Connor and her two year old nephew Liam Connor went missing after an apparent struggle at her flat." A collective gasp spread through the Rovers, as she continued, "Now normally we wouldn't make such a grand announcement of this, but as there is a child involved we are taking all necessary precautions to locate them as quickly as possible."

"Was it him?" Leanne's shaky voice rang out from a booth in the corner, "Was it Frank Foster?" At the mention of his name the punters began to whisper amongst each other.

"At this moment in time, we are unable to locate Mr. Foster. Therefore he is on our list of possible suspects." Donald responded to the question carefully. Inwardly he smiled to himself, knowing what he and his accomplice had just gotten away with.

"Do you have any leads?" Hayley's voice was a mixture of concern and dread.

"Not at the present time." Malone responded. "And I'm afraid we are going to put a damper on your New Years' festivities," she continued as ten more officers entered the pub, "we will need to interview you all immediately."

"Now hang on a minute," Norris interrupted, "Wh-why are we being interviewed, we were all here!" he insisted, not liking the sound of being interrogated one bit.

"Oh shut up Norris!" Rita slapped his arm, fed up with his ambivalent attitude towards others, "A woman and a young boy have been kidnapped, and you're worried about how it's going to put you out? You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" Norris looked down to the table, as Rita, Emily and Dennis shook their heads at him in disgust.

"You don't think he's going to, you know, attack her again do you?" Tracy asked, her arm across Peter's shoulders as she comforted her distraught step-brother.

"We can't answer that question at the present time. _If_ Mr. Foster is behind this we are unsure of just what his intentions are. That is why we need all the information we can gather about him from you all so that we can locate Miss Connor and her nephew before anything happens." Malone responded.

"I don't understand," Kirk stated sadly, knowing Maria would be in bits when she found out, "Why did he take Liam as well?" The punters shook their heads in wonderment and confusion when a voice broke the silence,

"Leverage." Peter responded in a low voice looking towards Malone, "he took Liam because he knows Carla will do whatever it takes to protect that little lad." His voice took on a more grave tone as he added, "He knows she won't try to end her life to escape him if he has sommit to hold over on her."

"That poor woman." Emily whispered; the thought of death being the only option Carla could see to ending her current situation sent a shiver right through her.

"We will need to get started as soon as possible." Malone stated.

Nick stood up from beside Leanne, "Look, I can open the Bistro down the street, and we can divide up between here and there. You know, to get the interviews done more efficiently." He offered.

"Thank you. That would be a great help." Malone stated. "In fact, I'll come with you and we'll start with you, and Mrs. Barlow," she pointed to Leanne. Leanne nodded and her and Nick followed Malone out of the pub as the other officers began to approach the other punters.

Peter slipped into the booth next to Kirk, Gary and Izzy, as Michelle and Ciaran made their way to the bar. Izzy asked Peter a question, but he couldn't hear her. He couldn't lift his eyes from a spot on the table as his hands clenched and unclenched into fists. He licked his lips subconsciously at the pint sitting across from him. His throat was dry. He put his head in his hands and took a shaky breath. He wanted to pour a bottle of whiskey down his throat and slip into a drunken oblivion and wake up to discover it was all a bad dream; he would find Carla next to him, her legs entwined around his, her fingers resting gently upon his chest, and her head latently dozing on his shoulder.

He pushed himself up from the booth and gripped the bar as Stella made her way over to him. "Ginger ale please, Stella." He ordered. He would not give into his temptation.

He would _not_ let Frank win.

* * *

She felt a finger poke her cheek repeatedly, rousing her from her unconscious state. She forced her eyes to open, only to close them seconds later as a lightning pain seared behind her eyes. She groaned in agony, before feeling two small arms wrap around her neck and cuddle in close to her. She knew his scent, having just given him a bath before -… her eyes shot open and she ignored the pain this time, as the memory of what transpired when she was last conscious came flooding back to her.

Liam lay cuddling into her on a large plush bed. She reached her arm around him stroking his hair, and laying a soft kiss on his forehead before resting her cheek upon the top of his head. Sunlight was just beginning to stream in through the slightly drawn curtains and she wondered how long she'd been out. She moved her head off the pillow, hissing slightly and grimacing in pain at the discomfort of a bruise having set on her cheek. Liam raised his head to look at her as she did so, and she gave him a half smile. She forced herself into a seated position, as Liam rested his head in her lap, his body curling up against her leg. She raised a shaky hand to her head, as dizziness and nausea overpowered her senses. She forced herself to look around the room, trying to recognize anything familiar but to no avail. In her mind she began to panic; she had once again become Frank's prisoner and she felt tears begin to well in her eyes. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions. She couldn't break in front of Liam; she had to keep her emotions in check in order to not traumatize him.

She heard footsteps approaching the room and her heart began to race. She subconsciously held Liam closer to her, shielding as much of him as possible, and willing her body to stop trembling. The door opened slowly, splashing sunlight into the room, and Frank's head peered around the corner. She felt bile rising in her throat and fear coursing through her body as he made eye contact with her. Upon realizing she was awake, he rose to his full height and entered the room, his trademark grin plastered across his features. She felt anger rise in her, and wanted nothing more that to smack the smirk off his face for good.

"Isn't that an endearing picture," he said softly as he observed Carla and Liam on the bed, "You see, I always knew you had that maternal streak in you my dear." He sat on the edge of the bed facing her and she forced herself to not jump and scurry away from him, knowing it would only frighten Liam.

"What are you doing Frank?" She asked him quietly, "You're risking a lot more than a rape charge by doing this."

"You seem to be under the impression that I'll be caught," he chuckled and shook his head, "Oh Carla, Carla, Carla. Have you not figured it out yet? I've got people working on the inside. Donald wasn't acting you see, he really is a copper…and he's been very good about helping me get around both the law and DC Malone." He saw her features tighten as she clenched her jaw, noticing the purple bruising beginning to form on her cheek. "He does have quite a temper though doesn't he?" he said referring to the backhand she received. "I really wouldn't anger him again like that Carla…he finds you quite attractive, and I may not be able to pull him off you next time." His voice was threatening, but his eyes gave away his true emotions; they were gleaming with anger as he stared at her cheek.

"Oh and I'm supposed to believe that you would just let him assault me eh?" She scoffed bitterly. "You see Frank, my unfortunate fatal attraction in choosing men seems to be their jealous and controlling nature; Paul, Tony, Liam to an extent, and you." She watched his eyes darken and his cheek twitch as she bravely called his bluff, but she wasn't going to stop now, "So you can threaten me all you like with the risk that your sidekick could rape me at any time, but we both know the truth –"she leaned closer to him dropping her voice to a whisper, "-that the moment you see him on top of me, you'll be so overcome with jealousy and anger and rage that you'll lash out... and you'll probably kill him." She leaned back sneering at him. Their eyes were locked in a battle of wills for a long moment before Frank relented, allowing a smile to grace his face.

"Well you got me there my dear. In that regard you seem to have me _wrapped around your little finger_." She snorted in disgust at his sarcasm, knowing full well she had no control over her current situation; but he continued unfazed, his eyes now drifting to the child at her side, "but you see I have no attachment to this little one. He weighs what: 1 stone and anywhere from 6 to 11 pounds?" He smirked, watching the colour drain from Carla's face as she pulled Liam closer to her, "Donald has been known to toss 2 stone a considerable distance without breaking a sweat. Now he wouldn't kill the child surely, he is after all my leverage against you; but he may just give him enough of a beating to vanquish his frustration at not being able to _have_ you." His eyes gleamed with a dark sparkle, knowing he had her right where he wanted her.

"There won't be any need for that." She whispered before rubbing her lips together apprehensively.

"That's my girl." He whispered quietly, reaching his hand out and caressing her cheek, watching her close her eyes in revulsion.

"Now Mr. Liam," Frank's voice took on a playful tone, and Carla's eyes shot open, watching his interaction with her nephew, "Are you hungry?"

At Liam's demure nod, he continued, "Well I have made you both a delicious breakfast. Shall we go have some?" He held out his hand to the child.

Liam nodded shyly again, but continued gripping Carla's shirt as he hid half his face from the stranger that sat on the bed.

"Come on darlin'," Carla cooed to him, determined not to let Frank touch her nephew. Without removing her eyes from Frank, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, and helped Liam jump down. She felt a wave of dizziness overtake her again as she stood up, but she forced herself to walk slowly out of the bedroom door behind Frank, clutching Liam's little hand in hers.

They were in a large house, complete with a winding staircase leading to the main floor. Carla assumed that Frank had been planning this for quite some time, having noticed the child-safety gates at the top and bottom of the staircase. She held Liam's hand as they descended down, refusing to make eye contact with her kidnapper who now stood waiting at the bottom at the stairs. She heard him close the gate behind them and looked around the house.

In any other situation, she would have found it was a breathtaking place; it had an old charm to it with just the right touch of modern embellishments. Her eyes flickered to the main door, her heart sinking upon recognizing the same type of lock that he had installed at the condo in L.A. She wouldn't be able to get out without a key, and she was sure he would be keeping the only one on him at all times. She felt his hand on the small of her back and jumped from his touch as if she were burned. She spun to face him, seeing his eyes darken. He stepped closer to her and her body tensed,

"Now, you didn't seem to jump when Peter Barlow was caressing your back on Christmas Eve," he said in a low voice and her eyes widened in realization,

"It was you. _You_ were watching us that night." She stated accusingly.

"Oh yes sweetheart," He stepped closer to her still, one arm reaching around her waist, pulling her towards him, while he ran the fingers of his other through her hair just above her ear, "I always keep a very close eye on what belongs to me." He whispered leaning in for a kiss. She tried to move her lips away from his, but he tightened his grasp on both her waist and the back of her head to a painful, vice-like grip, forcing her to look into his eyes fearfully before his mouth descended on hers. She let out a whimper against his lips but it only seemed to egg him on as he held her head steady and forced his tongue against her lips, prying them open in order to deepen the kiss.

She felt Liam gripping her leg, and she knew he was frightened. She felt helpless; and she knew she had to give in for no one else but the innocent toddler now trapped in Frank's vicious game against her. Feeling her stomach churning with bile, she responded to the kiss, reaching her hand up to rest on Frank's bicep, while the other gave Liam's hand a reassuring squeeze. Frank slowly broke the kiss moments later, and ran his fingers in circles on the back of her neck.

"You see?" he asked her gently, "Do you see how much more pleasurable things can be when you don't fight me?" He waited for a response, her eyes now looking anywhere but at him and he gave her head a sharp tug until she looked him in the eye. "Do you?" he repeated.

"Yes." She responded in a faint whisper, feeling a chill spread through her body.

"Good." He planted a kiss on her forehead before releasing his grip on her and walking towards the kitchen.

She stood frozen to the spot, tears of frustration burning in her eyes. She closed them and took a few breaths to steady herself. She re-opened them and looked down to Liam, who was still clinging to her leg and let a smile spread across her face,

"Breakfast time sweetheart." She said to him and he smiled up at her…his father's smile. She felt her heart split into two, her eyes closing again to contain her tears and threw her head back to look up to the ceiling. "I'm so sorry Leebugs." She whispered, hoping that wherever he was he would forgive her for putting his son in harm's way. Counting to ten, she composed herself and turned around, giving her nephew's hand a gentle shake of encouragement, and walked with him towards the kitchen.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Thank you all for the reviews, and to those who added the story to their alerts and favourites from the bottom of my heart! I am really flattered that you are enjoying this.**_

_**:)**_

* * *

His eyes roamed over her as she absent-mindedly played with the eggs in front of her. Her eyes were downtrodden, fixed on a spot just beyond her plate. Her shoulders were rounded as her back pressed into the chair she sat on, and the fingers of her left hand were curled in front of her mouth. Her hair fell limply around her face; remnants of the makeup she had applied the night before still clinging to her skin; there were slight smudges around her eyes and he could see, that despite her best efforts, some tears had fallen down her sad but beautiful face.

She glanced over at Liam when she saw him reaching for the toast. She stood up and walked over to him. Leaning forward, she picked up a slice and the butter dish. Placing it on his plate, she scooped a dollop of butter with the knife and carefully smeared it across the toast, enjoying the satisfying scrape the knife made as it spread across its surface. She found herself becoming lost in its sound; feeling much like Bilbo Baggins for a moment: _'I feel thin,' _she remembered the quote in the book, _'sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.'_

She carefully cut an X into the slice of toast, dividing it evenly into four small triangles, and moved the plate back in front of Liam. She placed the knife back on the butter dish and moved it back to the centre of the table, before feeling a tug at her sleeve.

Frank watched with amusement as Liam picked up a triangle in his hand and tugged on Carla's shirt with the other. When she looked down at him, he raised it up to her; his little fingers clenching it tightly. She smiled at him and bent over, pretending to bite it out of his hand. Liam gave a giggle and moved his hand tightly into his chest before she picked the piece out of his hand and popped it into her mouth; it appeared to be a common game of theirs, though Frank could tell she wasn't interested in eating anything at the moment. She sat back down in her chair, picking up the mug of coffee and taking a sip, her eyes cast down once again.

"You really should eat something you know." Frank stated concerned.

"Yeah, it's funny but you see for some odd reason I seem to have lost my appetite." She stated nonchalantly, her eyes moving up to meet his.

"It's a shame that," he said his finger playing with the rim of his mug, "you are going to need your strength for later." He looked at her seductively.

"I get the feeling that my being at full strength will not deter whatever you have planned for me, will it Frank?" her voice was low and her eyes were challenging him.

"I always did enjoy your feistiness Carla," he smiled at her, "I always found it an incredible turn-on."

"That's funny; because I'm finding sitting here looking at you right now to be a real turn-off." She muttered.

He let out a boisterous laugh, "Oh I forgot. It's the smell of tobacco and whiskey that turns you on now isn't it Carla?" Her eyes glowered at him but he kept on smiling sinisterly at her, "I suppose I'll have to pick up smoking if I ever hope to ever get you in 'the mood' again."

"You can smoke until you become a chimney stack, and you can drink until you become Jack Daniels 'imself. But trust me when I tell you Frankie…Nothing _you_ could possibly do, will ever get me in the mood again." She saw his jaw twitch at her words, before he smirked evilly at her.

"Well, as history has proven Carla, as long as _I'm _in the mood, I don't really _need _you to be."

She felt her blood boil as he smiled triumphantly at her, "You sick bastard." She gritted out.

"Save the dirty talk for the bedroom my dear; it gives me a rush." He stated in a low voice.

She angrily pushed herself from the table and picked Liam up in her arms, ignoring the menacing look Frank pinned on her. She stormed over to the staircase, tears burning her eyes. She quickly opened the gate and rushed up the stairs as quickly as she could with Liam resting against her hip. She made her way into the bedroom and placed him down on the sofa in the corner of the room. She could hear Frank's chair scrape the floor and his feet move purposefully towards the stairs as she grabbed Liam's bag from the ottoman at the bottom of the bed. Her hands were trembling but she managed to unzip the bag and pull out her nephew's blocks. She set them on the sofa in front of him and knelt down to his level, her back facing the door. She heard the door close behind him as he entered the room, and her body began to convulse in shakes as he stood towering behind her. She kept her eyes on Liam as she organized the blocks for him.

"Get up Carla." Frank ordered her calmly.

She closed her eyes, hot tears spilling down her cheeks as she did so. '_Why did I have to wind him up?'_ she angrily berated herself.

"Now Carla. Please," he pressed on, "Let's not make more of a scene in front of Liam."

She breathed deeply and forced herself to her feet, feeling him immediately grab her arm and turn her so she was facing him; her forearm pressed against his chest. She couldn't look him in the eyes, choosing instead to keep her head down and her eyes shut in anticipation of whatever he planned to do to her.

"I'm sorry." He whispered gently, running his free hand over the length of her hair. Her eyes slowly opened to look at him. His eyes were gentle, and there was genuine concern there as he used his thumb to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "I'm sorry," he repeated, "I shouldn't have said what I did. I can't bear it when I see you hurting sweetheart."

She couldn't believe the sudden change in him; he was like Dr. Jekyll one minute and Mr. Hyde the next. She wanted to hit him with a scathing response, but she didn't want to set him off; not when she had Liam to worry about. She decided instead to simply not respond, averting her eyes from his penetrating stare to look off in the distance.

He took her silence to mean his apology was accepted and leaned down to capture her lips with his. She didn't fight him as he kissed her; she didn't fight him as he wrapped his arms around her, effectively encasing her in a passionate embrace; her body did however, continue to tremble in his arms, and she shook against him violently when his hand began to slide up under the back of her blouse. He broke the kiss and pushed her violently against the wall behind her, pinning her between it and him.

"I'm not going to hurt you Carla," he whispered between kisses, "but you _will_ get used to my touch again; one way or another." He leaned his head down and began kissing her neck; gently suckling at her soft skin as his hand made its way around to the front of her blouse, opening the buttons slowly one by one. He felt her body convulsing in shakes as he continued to kiss her neck feverishly. He tired of the buttons and violently ripped the blouse open with one swift pull, hearing her whimper in terror. His hand grazed the hot flesh of her torso, making its way slowly up to her breasts. He lightly teased the flesh above the cups of her bra before his hand continued upwards. He played with the skin of her collarbone before his hand wrapped around the back of her neck, his lips laying kisses up her jawline until finally capturing her lips once again. He broke the kiss and stood away from her, watching as she tried desperately to cover herself.

"_That_ was progress my dear." He whispered as she slid down the wall to the floor, her eyes on the wall across from her. "Now I have to run out for some odds and ends. As you've probably already guessed, you are unable to leave the house without a key. The windows are shatterproof and there is no phone line. Now I suggest you take this time to look around the beautiful house I bought for us, maybe take a shower, change into something more comfortable? The closets and drawers are filled with clothes for you. Should you get hungry I'll be sure to leave the food covered downstairs to keep it warm." He crouched down and caressed her cheek before leaning in and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "See you in a little while sweetheart, I love you."

With that he stood up and walked out of the room as Carla's body continued to convulse in shakes, and Liam continued to play with his blocks, unfazed by what had transpired before him.

* * *

Frank returned back to the house later that afternoon. He found Carla in the living room in the armchair. She had changed into a satin pyjama set, and had her legs drawn up to her chest, staring idly at the television set. He busied himself for the next half hour or so, as he put away groceries and opened the toys he had bought for Liam. Some time later he entered the living room, handing her a mug of coffee before sitting on the couch opposite her.

"Where is Liam?" he asked

"Down for a nap." She responded without looking at him, her voice barely above a whisper.

They sat in silence for a while, save for the sounds from the television, and he simply observed her as he drank the steaming liquid from his mug. Her eyes were downtrodden again, as they had been at breakfast. She sat with no makeup on, and he couldn't quite catch his breath at just how breathtaking she was.

Frank pushed himself off the couch; the leather making a sound as he did so that caused her to jump involuntarily, but she kept her head down. Placing his mug down, he carefully walked around the coffee table towards her. The hands holding her mug began to tremble as he stood behind her chair. He ran his fingers through her hair, carefully gathering it and brushing it to one side, exposing her neck and collar bone.

"You're so beautiful my dear." He whispered, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders, as he leaned down and laid a trail of kisses up her neck, feeling her tense beneath his touch. "I always thought your beauty was unparalleled, you know. Rumors of the gorgeous factory owner in Weatherfield were clearly underrated." His hand began to caress her collar bone, his fingers grazing the neckline of her pyjama top. Her eyes did not move from the spot on the floor, but she felt her body begin to shake; the thought of him touching her any more intimately brought about both waves of nausea and anger. "I knew the moment I first laid eyes on you that I had to have you." He said seductively, his hand cupping her cheek and turning her head towards his as he leaned down and kissed her lips.

When he broke away, she scoffed, "Yeah, after Michelle and Maria both rejected you, right Frank?"

He gave a snicker at her naivety and knelt beside the armchair, his fingers caressing her cheek as he spoke, "Oh come on Carla, you must know the game: A man walks into a bar and sees a beautiful woman with her two friends; does he initially go for the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, or does he try to make inroads with her friends first?" He smiled as it dawned on her. "I wasn't stupid. I knew Michelle had a boyfriend, but I hoped that she would at least put in a good word about me with her beautiful boss. When she didn't because she ran off with the love of her life, I moved on to Maria. The only problem there was that, and you really should believe me when I say, that I would never have forced myself on her; she's not my type." He gave her a wink and she looked away in disgust.

"So only women who are too traumatized to fight back are your type eh?" she whispered and he roughly grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced her to look at him.

"Like I said," he continued ignoring her comment, "_she's_ not my type. But just from our few meetings I could see she was over protective of you, like she was worried about you for some reason. And I knew I'd have to drive a wedge between the pair of you in order to get closer to you, to gain your trust." She felt the bile churn in her stomach at how intricate his plan to bed her all along was, and the sickening way it had all worked like a charm. "The way you stood by her originally worried me for a time. I thought maybe I had gone too far and I had ruined my chances. But then I could see you cracking under the pressure from your workforce…and I knew I just needed to continue to get into your good books. I knew eventually yours and Maria's friendship would crack under the strain of our partnership." He moved his hand to caress her cheek once more.

"So what was Tracy Barlow then Frank?" she asked, grasping at anything to offset the horror she felt at being played so meticulously.

"Sexual relief." He breathed deeply, as his eyes roamed up and down her body causing her to shudder at his intensity. "I was aroused just being close enough to touch you, Carla. Anytime I was in the factory with you, sitting in the office with you, watching you as you worked… I needed a release, and I knew Tracy was hung up on her ex; it would be a safe fling with no deep emotional attachments. Plus, you were still obviously not over Peter Barlow and I just needed to bide my time." Her eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Hang on, you didn't know about Peter until after we returned from Rome." She stated and he smirked again at her naivety, but she continued shaking her head at herself in disgust, "you know I should have seen this coming. It were like history repeating itself. Tony found out that Liam and I shared one kiss together and he proposed the very next day. You find out about my feelings for Peter and the next day you propose an' all. God, I was so stupid to not see yet another pathological jealous psycho standing right in front of me."

"Oh Carla," he gently shook his head and laughed, "I knew about you and Peter Barlow long before then." At her confused expression he said, "Remember the day of his and Leanne's blessing? How you were supposed to meet me in the pub afterwards? Well, when you didn't show, I questioned Sean and Julie as to your whereabouts and they were only too willing to spill the gossip on what they heard went down at the church." Her eyes widened in horror and she slumped further into her seat, feeling the bile rising up through her chest. "The way Peter called you out in front of the whole congregation, telling them you had tried to seduce him, even told him you _loved_ him," the word dripped of venom as it passed his lips and she felt herself heave, trying desperately to hold down the vomit at just how long he knew about her feelings for Peter, "and the way you ran out of the church in humiliation: 'a shoe-in for gold in 2012' I believe were Sean's words. So you see Carla, I knew all along about Peter; and it came in very handy towards my seduction of you."

She couldn't hold it in any longer as the bile finally reached the back of her throat; she launched herself out of her chair, a hand flying up to cover her mouth, throwing him off balance as she pushed past him and ran into the kitchen. She gripped the counter top and retched into the sink. Her hands clenched and unclenched against the cool granite that she gripped; her body shook violently as she expelled another bout of bile into the sink; tears filled her eyes from the violent assault her body endured as she continued to retch. She felt his hands on her back; one hand rubbing gentle circles soothingly while the other pulled her hair back from her face. The thought of his hands on her caused her to retch over and over again, letting out sobs of frustration in between each one. When she finally stopped, her body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat; her face was pale and her body trembled as she pushed herself shakily to a standing position. She turned on the tap, keeping her back to Frank as he pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. She ran her hands under the water, watching as the cool liquid cleaned the sink beneath them. She cupped some water in her hand and ran it over her mouth, drinking it in and allowing it drizzle down her throat before placing her damp hand against her face, trying to cool down her burning skin.

He placed the bottle in her hand and she bit her lip, willing herself not to cry; but she couldn't stop as the tears began to flow freely down her face. Without turning back to face him she rushed out of the kitchen and into the washroom, using her weight to slam the door shut as sobs escaped her. She slid down the door, drawing her knees into her body as she cried. He planned everything so perfectly from the moment she had met him, and she had fallen right into his clutches. She had been so naïve; her feelings for Peter and the worry over her business had clouded her better judgment. She hated showing weakness in front of him, but she could not for the life of her stop the sobs that emitted from her; she could not stop the tears, and she could not stop the feeling of her heart and soul being shattered into a million pieces. He had successfully broken her in more ways than one.

Frank stood outside the door; he had seen Carla with her face draped in tears. He had seen her cry silently before…but he had never heard her cry like this. It sounded as though she was breaking in two. The sobs that emitted from her, the way she struggled to take in a breath, the strangled cries that emerged as she exhaled was enough to break his heart.

_He had taken his game too far._


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews! **_

_**I always wondered what made Frank such a complex character…he would be so caring and loving one minute, and so controlling and vicious the next; so I decided to delve into his mind and offer my version of what made Frank who he was. I'm trying to not make him such a black and white character…**_

_**In my opinion he's about 30-45 shades of grey…**_

_**Hope you enjoy, and as always comments and reviews are so gratefully appreciated!**_

* * *

He had taken his game too far. He was trying to break down her defenses, not enforce them. He had moved into the den and sat in the chair, gazing out the window as he berated himself for losing his temper. _'I shouldn't be surprised really,'_ he thought '_It's a family curse'_. He _always_ lost his temper, but had perfected the art of hiding it well beneath a calm exterior. He learned that well from his father… amongst other things; like how to break a woman down, isolate her, and make her completely dependent on him.

He thought back on his parent's relationship when he was growing up; his mother had no friends outside of other couples, and most of them were acquaintances of his dad's. Whenever they would go out together, it was okay for him to flirt and hit on other women, but his wife was not to do the same with other men. His parents' marriage was based on old and outdated values, and yet it seemed to work for them. His father was the breadwinner and his mother stayed at home and raised their son…until his father came home. Then he would have private tete-a-tete's with him in the den with the door locked. His mother was not privy to these did she know that her husband was molding her son into a hard man, one that would assert his authority over others, and especially over the fairer sex.

He stood up and walked to the window, leaning his arm against its pane. He remembered back to a conversation he had with his father upon visiting home from college; it was the conversation that changed him from the calm, loving man he had once been into the jealous, manipulative one he was today.

"_So what happened with Emma?" Sam asked his dejected looking son as he locked the door to the den._

"_I broke it off with her. She was cheating on me with her ex-boyfriend." Frank stated sadly, accepting the glass of whiskey his father handed to him. "2 years together down the drain." he muttered somberly.  
_

"_How did you find out?" Sam asked as he sat down in the armchair directly across from his son, holding the tumbler of whiskey in his hands and eyeing him carefully._

_Frank took a deep breath before answering, "I caught them together - in our bed." His voice was wrought with emotion as all the feelings of that night came flooding back to him._

"_So what are you going to do about it?" Sam asked taking a sip of the amber liquid. Frank's eyes shot up to meet his father's._

"_What do you mean? I broke it off with her dad, and kicked her out of the flat. What more do you expect me to do?" His voice was defeated as he took a sip of his whiskey._

"_A hell of a lot more than that, my son." Sam stated maliciously._

"_I don't understand." Frank was thoroughly confused with his father's implication._

"_What have I been telling you all these years? Has nothing passed through that thick skull of yours?" Sam's tone was harsh, making sure each word cut into his son as deeply as the last. "You never let a woman walk all over you Frank. The whole woman's movement and equality nonsense over the last few decades: it's utter madness and mark my words, the world will go to hell in a hand basket quickly if men like us don't start taking back what's ours." Sam leaned forward in his chair, his eyes menacing and Frank recoiled a little further into his chair. "Now you listen to me son: don't you ever let a woman get away with betraying you. Emma was **yours**, she belonged to **you**. And you let another man walk in and take her from you. Fine, it's too late to do anything about taking her back now. But you can still make her life a living hell."_

"_I just want to move on dad."_

"_No you don't." Sam pounded his fist on the side table, causing Frank to jump. "No. You will make her life a misery Frank. You will make it known that she is nothing but a shameless little tart. Make those around her start to judge her...break her down piece by piece. And once you ruin her reputation, you will take her for every penny she has."_

"_But-"_

"_If you don't Frank I will!" Sam threatened._

"_Okay." Frank reluctantly agreed, just wanting the conversation to end. _

_But Sam could see through his son's facade, and leaned closer to him, _"_She betrayed you Frank," he taunted him._

_Frank closed his eyes, willing his father to stop, _

_"she made you look like a weak little pansy," Sam snarled  
_

"_Stop it-" Frank put his head between his hands trying to cover his ears, but his father kept pressing._

"_She never loved you. She never wanted to be with you, she only ever wanted to be with **him**."_

"_No." Frank whispered _

"_She was just using you, Frank. Using you to win back the man she really loved."_

"_Please dad," Frank's voice was pleading as he rocked back and forth, feeling both beaten down and angry simultaneously, "just please stop it…"_

"_She was probably thinking of him every single time she was with you-"_

_Frank felt a surge of anger course through him and he stood up and angrily whipped the tumbler across the den, hearing it smash as it made contact with the wall. His eyes were blazing, tears that had escaped his eyes at his father's taunting still clung to his cheeks as his hands clenched and unclenched into fists, and he fixed his father with a menacing stare._

"_That's it!" Sam cried triumphantly as he rose to his feet and placed both hands on his son's shoulders, "Now use that anger son. Use that anger and make that cold-hearted little bitch suffer." Frank nodded in agreement and went to leave the room before he felt his father's fingers dig into his arm, pulling him backwards. Sam's voice was low, practically whispering in his son's ear, "and next time Frank, next time a woman betrays you like this, you make sure she knows who she, and her body, belongs to."_

_Frank turned to look at his father, a mix of shock and horror infused in his eyes, "You asking me to commit a crime?"_

"_Oh don't be naive Frank!" his father spat, before lowering his voice to a whisper again, "It's only a crime if you get caught. And even then, you can always get out of it."_

_Frank nodded again and pulled away from his father's grasp, promising himself he would never allow himself to become the kind of man his father was trying to mold him into._

Frank sighed. It was his father's ridiculing he heard in his mind the night he raped Carla; telling him to take back what was his; to force her to understand who she belonged to. Everything was pounding in his ears, his heart broken by yet another woman who was in love with someone other than him.

But Carla wasn't Emma…she meant so much more to him in the short time he knew her. He had desired her from the moment he saw her. He loved everything about her with every fibre of his being: her beauty, her laugh, her feistiness, her sharp-tongue…her vulnerability.

He sighed heavily. He couldn't believe what he was capable of until he saw her cowering away from him on the floor after he forced himself on her; pulling herself tightly into a ball as he stood over her. Realization hit him and he ran from the flat, his mind trying to process what he had done.

His father had indeed molded him into a monster. But how to prove that he wasn't? Or more importantly, how could he break the cycle and become the man he once was?

* * *

She emerged from the bathroom over an hour later, still clutching the bottle of water to her. Her eyes were sore and her head now pounded endlessly as a migraine started to set in. It had began to darken outside, but the lights in the house ripped through her head like a knife making her feel weak and dizzy. She needed to rouse Liam from his nap and get some tea ready for him. She walked to the stairs, stopping momentarily as she saw Frank. He was in the den, his face somber as he gazed out the window, his arm leaning against the pane. She walked up the stairs quickly, wanting to avoid yet another confrontation.

"Carla?"she heard him call from the room, and she quickened her pace, opening the gate at the top of the stairs and rushing into the nursery. Liam was up already playing with his toys on the ground.

"Hiya darlin'!" she whispered to him as she sat crossed legged in front of him, and wincing as even her hushed words seemed to ricochet off the walls and thunder in her eardrums. He stood up and pattered over to her, holding a toy car in his hand. He leaned his body against hers, wrapping his arm around her neck as he held the car in front of him.

"Ooo that is a beautiful car," she told him as she placed her arm around him and touched the car with her other hand, "eh, what sound does a car make?"

"Vroom" Liam responded quietly, blushing as a smile rose in his cheeks.

Carla gave him a huge smile, "Yeah, vroom vroom." She responded as she gave him a little shake and tickle.

"Carla." She heard his voice behind her; his tone was gentle, full of…_'was that worry?'_ She thought to herself.

She closed her eyes and without turning to face him responded in a shaky voice, "I think you've said all you needed to downstairs Frank." She gently pushed Liam in the direction of his toys, and he hobbled over and plopped himself down with his back to her.

"No, I haven't." Frank responded as he moved to stand in front of her. She refused to look up at him, and so he knelt down to her level. "I was just trying to make you see how much I cared for you…how much I wanted you." He said gently. "I was trying to show you how much I loved you."

"What by isolating me from my friends?" she stated abruptly; looking into his eyes, a fire dancing in her olive orbs. "By making me feel insecure? By holding sommit over on me? If love to you means whittling down a person like a piece of wood then you certainly _loved _me alright."

"I still love you." He stated genuinely. "You have this hold on me Carla. You're like an addiction, like a drug; I need you all the time. I can't resist you, I can't live without you, and I don't want to recover from this addiction," he grasped the back of her neck, caressing it with his fingers, as his eyes pleaded with her to understand, "I just want to satisfy it. Don't you see? You're the only one who can cure me."

"You're crazy." She stated, fear pumping through her as she freed herself from his grasp and scuttled backwards away from him, "You can't honestly believe that you love me."

"I do." He insisted moving towards her.

"No." she shook her head, "if you really loved me, you would never have done what you did Frank." Her voice cracked with emotion and her eyes brimmed with tears.

"You betrayed me." His eyes began to darken, becoming increasingly incensed at her unwillingness to understand. "You were having an affair with Peter."

"N-no." she shook her head again, her back pressing against the wall behind her; her legs tucked closely into her body, "No, I wa-wasn't."

"You broke my heart." His voice was strained with hurt and anger.

"And I hate myself for that." She whispered, tears flooding down her face, hoping that some honesty would stop him from forcing himself on her. "I'll never forgive myself for hurting you Frank, for not being able to love you enough…but it never gave you the right to do what you did to me." She whispered; her voice was hoarse and wracked with emotion.

He was now kneeling over her, his hands resting on the floor on either side of her hips, his face mere inches from hers, effectively blocking her from escaping. His eyes roamed her face as she trembled at his closeness, and he wanted to kiss her in that instant, and make her feel just how much he wanted her; but as he stared into her eyes, taking the words she spoke directly to his heart, the frustration he felt was ultimately replaced with concern.

She looked rough. Her eyes were swollen and red from crying; her face pale, highlighting the dark circles under her eyes, and her brow was furrowed in sweat. Her hands grasped at the material of her pyjamas, kneading them between her fingers anxiously.

His mind flooded back to when he was leaning against the bathroom door downstairs over an hour ago; listening to her as she broke down on the other side, feeling his heart split in two. Guilt washed over him at just how much she was suffering under his care. This wasn't what he had planned for when he took her and Liam from her flat last night.

He just wanted to make her love him the way he loved her. He knew he took things too far earlier, but now he just wanted her to see that he wasn't really a monster; he was simply a product of how he was raised. He counted to ten mentally to further suppress his anger, and again reminded himself that he needed to gain her trust; lashing out at her in frustration would only further push her deeper into her broken shell.

It was then that he noticed the heat emanating from her body, and his brow creased in concern. He raised the back of his hand to her forehead, feeling the skin smoldering under his touch.

"Carla, you're burning up." He stated worriedly. When she failed to respond, he put his arms around her, feeling her go tense and shuddering under his touch, before pulling her to her feet with him. "Come on," he whispered, "I'm putting you to bed."

"No." she stated firmly, thoroughly petrified with his mood changes, "I-" she sighed dizzily, "I need to make Liam his tea." She tried to ease herself out of his grasp, but he held on firmly to her waist and shoulders.

"Okay I can see you're going to be stubborn about this," he said defeated, "tell you what: we'll go downstairs to the living room and I'll set you up on the couch and draw the curtains. I'll make you and Liam some dinner, and that way you can still be with him and I can look after you, alright?" his voice was calm and gentle and it infuriated her to no end; she wanted to scream and lash out at him; but again she knew she had to give in for Liam's sake. She nodded slowly, not looking into his eyes. She felt his soft lips press against her temple and she instantly felt sick to her stomach. She didn't want to anger him; she could barely fight to keep her eyes open with the pain that flashed behind them constantly; her whole body just felt weak. She took a deep breath and held her hand out to her side, calling Liam in a hushed voice. She heard him scamper towards her and grasp her hand.

She felt the whole room spin around her, and as much as it sickened her, she leaned into Frank's embrace as he aided her down the stairs and onto the couch. He exited the room, as she sat Liam down on the floor in front of her; she was more than sure that the fever was a symptom of the migraine that throttled her mind, but she didn't want to take the chance of Liam catching something on the off-chance that she was coming down with a bug. Frank returned minutes later with a duvet and a pillow. He eased the pillow under her head as she lay on her side, feeling chills course through her body. He opened the duvet and threw it over her shaking body, leaning himself down in front of her to stroke the side of her face.

"Now I'm going to make you some chicken soup and some tea. Just take it easy and close your eyes, okay sweetheart?"

She closed her eyes in frustration and begrudgingly nodded; she was too weak to resist him. He turned to Liam, who had moved to stand at Carla's head, his hand lying on top of her hair. "Now Mr. Liam," Frank said playfully, "Would you like to help me make Auntie Carla some dinner?" Liam nodded shyly, his thumb resting on his lips. Frank looked back to her, and noting the apprehensive expression on her face he whispered, "I'm not going to hurt him Carla. But if you don't believe me, from this couch you have a direct view of the kitchen, so you can see it for yourself, okay?" Before she could respond he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead, before rising to his feet and holding out his hand to Liam. Carla watched helpless as her nephew took hold of her rapist's hand and walked into the kitchen. He lifted Liam to sit on the counter and handed him a stuffed toy to play with.

Carla didn't remove her eyes from them as Frank busied himself with making their dinner.

How did she get herself into this mess?


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: Thanks again for all the lovely reviews! I'm sorry for the delay on this chapter...it was a little harder to write than the others. I hope I did it some justice, but in the clear light of day tomorrow I may feel different and do a re-write. **_

_**Thanks for reading, and as always, your reviews are deeply appreciated! :)**_

* * *

"Mr. Barlow, I've already explained to you," Donald stated as he sat in the Rovers across from Peter, Michelle, and Ciaran, "we are doing everything possible to try to find Miss Connor and her nephew. DC Malone and I are going over all of the statements from the residents here, and we're hoping that we will find something in at least one of them that will give us a lead." He took a sip of his orange juice.

"And while you are fiddling around trying to come up with theories and motives, Foster's holed up somewhere doing God knows what to her!" Peter snapped at him. It had now been 38 hours since Carla was viciously taken from him again. He hadn't slept since that night; he was beginning to worry that when they did find her, she wouldn't be the woman he knew and loved anymore; instead she would be an irreparable damaged soul inside of a broken shell.

"We are doing our best Mr. Barlow-"

"Well, you're best is not good enough!" Michelle bellowed, her fist crashing down on the table, causing Donald to jump in surprise. She had been sitting so quietly, simply taking in their conversation; he shifted his eyes to meet hers, and recoiled a little in spite of himself. Her eyes danced with a burning fire, the muscles in her jaw were tensed and her lips were pursed as she breathed in short steady breaths; she looked ready to rip his head off.

"Mrs. McCarthy," he cleared his throat, "we can't simply send police units to every corner of this country on the off-chance that we'll catch him. Besides, we don't know for sure if it is even him."

"Oh please!" Peter huffed, "we _know_ it's him. He already pulled this stunt when he followed her to the States. The doctor in L.A. confirmed him in the picture we had."

"Well unfortunately, as Dr. Martin is no longer a witness, we cannot verify that information." Donald stated smugly, a tone which did not go unnoticed by Peter. "That is why we'll need the names of the two nurses from your friend-" he scanned the notepad Malone had given him, looking for the name she had scribbled down, "-A Mr. Gary Windass as quickly as possible."

"Here's what I don't understand," A voice stated abruptly, and Donald turned and lifted his head up to look at the red-head who was now leaning over the top of the booth behind him, "The police say she was attacked and kidnapped sometime between 11:30 and midnight right?"

Donald gave a nod, unsure of where this was headed, "That is correct."

"Okay, but _you_ were at her apartment that night when Kirk and I showed up. That was around 11:30. How long were you there for?"

"About twenty minutes." Donald responded coldly as he now recognized who Gary was; silently berating himself for not realizing it sooner.

"So, follow me now," Gary said raising his hands in front of him as if he were lining up a shot to film, "You were there 20 minutes that takes us to 11:50pm, yeah? These guys" he pointed to the three across from Donald, "arrived at the flat at 12:05 pm." Peter and Ciaran exchanged a glance, trying to figure out where Gary was going with his line of questioning.

Gary continued, "So you and Malone put out the time as of 11:30 pm that she was _possibly_ kidnapped…but you were there, and you know that she was still around until 11:50 pm; how do you explain that exactly?"

"It was given as a general time." Donald stated quickly. "As I was running around to multiple houses for various reasons, I couldn't verify the exact time I arrived at Miss Connor's flat, or the exact time that I left. Therefore it was better to go by the time which you and Mr. Sutherland stated that you saw her last which was 11:30 pm."

Gary nodded his head slowly, not believing a word Donald was saying to him. "Oh, okay. Thanks I understand now." He moved as if he were leaving, before turning back and leaning on the booth again, "Oh uhh did Carla use the phone before you left the flat?"

"Not that I'm aware of. I thanked her for her time and offered to drive her to Coronation Street but she refused, saying she wanted to head out on her own, so I left."

"Hmmm…" Gary breathed as he scratched his head, "Yeah, that's the bit that really confuses me, you see: 'cause Carla was going to call us _before_ you left the flat. She was very insistent to us about that before we headed back here; you see as much as she was trying to get her life back together, she wasn't quite ready to walk _anywhere_ on her own late at night, especially with a small child. Now, you heard this conversation she had with us, 'cause you were standing right next to her at the time," Donald glared at Gary, but the redhead continued anyway, "so what I want to know is this: did you leave her on her own despite her request for you to wait until she called one of us, or did you see more than what you are making out you did?" Gary's eyes flashed as they bore into the officer's.

Donald took a deep breath, his mind racing to find a suitable answer. "I left before she called. _If_ she called that is," he responded slowly, "I must admit that I forgot about that bit of the conversation you had with her, as she must have done as well, as there was no mention of her wanting me to stick around. And let me be clear Mr. Windass," his voice lowered to an almost threatening tone, "accusing an officer of withholding information about an investigation is a serious offence."

Michelle, Peter and Ciaran watched the exchange with piqued curiousity. Gary leaned closer to the officer, his eyes unflinching;

"Not as serious an offence as the officer who is withholding information about _said_ investigation." He said as he raised his eyebrows and pinned the officer with a knowing look.

Donald narrowed his eyes at Gary before pushing himself out of the booth. "I'll keep in touch with you Mr. Barlow, Mr. and Mrs. McCarthy." With a nod he began heading towards the pub doors, before pausing and fixing Gary with his stare.

"Mr. Windass, I presume?" he stated coldly.

"Gary, please." The redhead smirked at him.

"Well, _Mr. Windass_: when you find the names and information of the two nurses in L.A., I'll need you to contact me right away." He pulled a card out of his pocket and flicked it onto the top of the booth.

"Well, I'll be heading back to Afghanistan tomorrow," Gary said sliding the card back towards Donald. "Plus I've already got DC Malone's card for that, and I'd rather stay in contact with her if it's all the same to you."

Donald slid the card back with equal force, "I must insist you contact _me_. Malone has delegated me with a number of different areas of this investigation, including the contact of any potential witnesses overseas. Contacting Malone may delay the investigation and the possible arrest of Mr. Foster, if his arrest is applicable. I'm sure you wouldn't want that?"

Gary took the card and flashed the officer a smile, "Well then I best not lose this eh?"

"No, Mr. Windass, you best not." With a final nod, Donald exited the pub.

"Okay Gary," Ciaran started confusedly as Gary sat in their booth, but Gary put a finger to his mouth and shook his head, sliding a note in front of the three of them:

_**TABLE HAS BEEN BUGGED!**_

Ciaran, Peter and Michelle all glanced at each other worriedly, before Ciaran continued, "so when do you head back to the base?" he asked, changing his original question.

"Later on this evening." Gary said as he scribbled something furiously onto another piece of paper." It's a shame though, I really wanted to help you find Carla and Liam."

"You would've been a great help to us again," Peter jumped in, continuing on with the sudden change in direction of the conversation, "you were really helpful in L.A."

Gary slid the paper over to them, his eyes glancing out the window.

_**WE NEED TO GO SOMEWHERE THAT WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN BUGGED BY FITZGERALD A FEW NIGHTS BACK; SO NOT THE FACTORY, BISTRO, OR OUR HOUSES.**_

Peter grabbed the paper and scribbled something down, as Michelle kept the conversation going, "will your mum be having a send-off for you?"

"Yeah, tonight at the Bistro." Gary lied. "7:00 pm."

Peter pushed the paper in front of the other three, and after glancing to one another they nodded in agreement.

Grabbing the piece of paper, Peter said nonchalantly, "You know what Ciaran, if we're gonna head out and continue our search for Carla soon, then I'm gonna need a coffee to keep me going. Fancy going to the cafe?"

"Yeah, we could do with a bit of lunch as well." Ciaran agreed.

"Yeah I could do with a coffee and all before Leanne and I head to the airport to pick up Maria." Michelle agreed.

"I'm game." Gary stated smiling.

They slid out of the booth and headed out of the pub. They walked down the street to Roy's Rolls, all aware that Fitzgerald was watching them from his patrol car.

Donald glared at the four as they headed to the café, angry that they had left the pub where he had carefully placed a bug on the underside of the table before he was interrogated by Gary. He was going to wait outside Roy's and trail Peter and Ciaran, when his radio went off.

"Fitzgerald? I need you back at the station as soon as possible." Malone's voice rang out over the loudspeaker. He sighed angrily, before picking up the radio and responded,

"On my way." He started the car and drove away from Coronation Street.

* * *

"Gary, you know you the names of the two nurses already. Why haven't you said anything to Malone?" Ciaran asked as they sat in Roy's Rolls.

"Because I don't trust her sidekick." Gary stated nonchalantly. "And I'm not going to put James and Phil in danger until I know for sure what's going on. Besides, he's not telling us something. And the fact that I caught him bugging the table while he was talking to you three was enough to send my mind into overdrive." He took a sip of his coffee.

"Do you think he saw something and isn't saying anything?" Michelle asked. "You think Frank paid him off? Or threatened him?"

"I'm saying I think he's in on it." Gary said lowering his voice. "Did you see his reaction when I called him out? Guilty as sin, man."

"If he is working with Frank, and they become suspicious that you know, do you think they'll try to silence you they way they did the doctor in L.A.?" Michelle's voice was full of worry.

"Nah. Not as long as he thinks I'm going to Afghanistan." Gary winked at her. "I'm gonna need to lie low though. Dennis and Marcus's flight arrives in a few hours. I'm gonna meet them at the airport, then head to the Bistro in case Fitzgerald decides to show up. As far as anyone knows, I'm heading back to the base, that includes me mum."

Peter fiddled with his mug, "this changes everything." He said in a low voice, his eyes darting from Michelle to Ciaran to Gary. "Frank has someone working on the inside. He has the ability to change statements, tamper with evidence…it's going to be so much harder to find her this time around."

"Actually, it might be easier." Gary stated. At their quizzical glances, he continued, "chances are, he's gonna make contact with Foster soon. Maybe even go out to meet him…and then-"

"-Then he'll lead us right to him." Peter finished. Gary raised his mug in mock salute, before taking another sip.

"Working against a crooked copper means we'll have to be more careful though. We need to get prepaid phones; don't use your mobiles or house lines to discuss anything about this search. We communicate via the prepaid phones only. I'll be shacking up with Dennis and Marcus and we'll be keeping up some of the surveillance." Gary's voice became stern, "And no one - I repeat - no one remains on their own at anytime. That includes you and Maria Michelle, we don't need anyone getting caught and being used as leverage against us or Carla. Once we get some confirmation that Fitzgerald is working with Foster, we'll try to set him up." Gary informed them all in a hushed voice.

"How?" Ciaran asked.

"By giving him the names of the nurses that aided Carla that night at the hospital: Dennis and Marcus." Gary smirked. "And won't he be happy to hear that they're visiting family here in England?"

"Clever plan Windass." Peter smiled at the young redhead.

"Cheers mate."

* * *

Donald sat in the car outside of the station, his thumb hovering over the name "Jim". His eyes narrowed in anger as he thought back to what just occurred in the Rovers.

_'That arrogant little shit.'_ He thought to himself, _'if he wasn't heading back to Afghanistan tomorrow, he'd be getting up close and personal with the underside of my car.'_

He banged the back of his head angrily off the headrest in frustration. He was slipping up; if he wasn't careful, Barlow and his friends would find him out and then they'd find Foster.

He couldn't let that happen; Frank had a hold on him, he knew too much; and what's more, he was more manipulative than Donald could ever be. If Frank was caught, he'd ensure that Donald went down for the crime while he walked away scot free.

No, he wouldn't allow them to get caught now. He had to do something to cover his tracks.

Pausing for another moment, he pressed the call button and listened to it ring.

"Hello?" came the voice on the other side.

"It's time." Donald stated calmly.

"So soon?" the voice on the line sounded angry and apprehensive.

"I'm afraid Carla's friends are smarter than we gave them credit for." Donald stated knowingly, "Sorry Foster, ring your solicitor; it's time you came out of hiding." He said before hanging up.

He smiled evilly, before stepping out of the car and heading into the police station.


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: Thank you all again for the reviews! As some may have noticed, the rating of this and two of my other stories have been changed to M. Hope it doesn't turn you off.**_

_**We'll be getting to some good bits in the upcoming chapters...but again there will be mentions of violence and sexual situations. **_

_**Fair warning! **_

_**As always your reviews and comments are greatly appreciated!**_

_**:)**_

* * *

"Well it's not my problem George that you haven't been able to reach me; I left my new number with that incompetent secretary of yours back in November." He gritted out. He gave a deep sigh, his head falling forwards as he ran his tongue over his teeth. "Fine! I'll meet you in an hour."

Frank angrily ended the call on the mobile. The last thing he needed right now was a lecture from his solicitor. This meeting wasn't supposed to occur for weeks, and he now had to jeopardize everything because Peter and Michelle were figuring things out too quickly. He glanced over his shoulder to the dining room to see Carla eyeing him carefully.

He was out of her earshot, but she could tell by his body language that something the other person had said on the phone had angered him. He fixed her with his dark stare and she could feel herself begin to tremble under his gaze.

'_This is all her fault,'_ he thought angrily as stared at her, _'had she not been two-timing me with that alcoholic bookie, I wouldn't have lashed out and we wouldn't be in this mess.'_ He felt the rage, that he promised himself only yesterday that he would try to contain, slowly pulsing through his veins.

Last night had been great in his eyes; he had made her some soup, and made Liam and himself some chicken fingers and vegetables. They had sat and ate in the living room so Carla could remain comfortable on the sofa. After dinner, he had put on a DVD, and about halfway through, looked over to see that Carla had fallen asleep, little Liam snuggled into her side and fast asleep as well. He didn't disturb them and so began a clean-up, but eventually he heard her stirring. When he re-entered the living room she was picking Liam up to put him to bed. He finished cleaning and headed upstairs himself, waiting for her to come into the master bedroom so he could check on her fever before letting her sleep for the night.

She never showed, and so he had crept to the nursery, not surprised in the slightest when he found her there. She had avoided being alone with him since they had arrived. It deeply bothered him that she was still so terrified of him; didn't she realize he didn't even know what he was doing the night she broke up with him? That it was all just a horrible accident, fueled by passion and anger?

He gazed at the scene, feeling his heart flutter. She was on her side, one arm under Liam's pillow, the other wrapped around his little chest. Her arm was bare and he could see her shivering from a combination of the fever and the chill in the house. He carefully moved to stand next to her, and pulled the blanket up to cover her exposed skin. She gave a grunt and mumbled in her sleep, at the disruption to her peaceful slumber. He leaned down and placed a kiss on her head, before walking back towards the hallway.

"Goodnight Carla." He had whispered, quietly closing the door behind him.

Even that morning was a better one then the day before. They had a quiet breakfast in the dining room, Carla again simply picking at her food, her face somber and sad; answering his attempts at conversations with simple one word answers. She remained in the nursery for the majority of the morning, reading to Liam and helping him play with his toys. She made her way downstairs with her nephew around lunch and began to prepare something for him to eat. Frank watched her as she sat Liam on the counter and she pulled out some bread to make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He could sense she was getting stir-crazy, but he couldn't take the chance of them leaving the house…not yet anyways.

She, in the meantime, was uncomfortable in his presence, but knew she had to keep the status quo for her nephew's sake. While she waited for her soup to boil, she found a pre-made salad kit in the fridge. She took it out and dished a bowl for Frank. She chopped up a leftover chicken finger and tossed it in the salad, her stomach in knots at the idea of preparing a meal for the man who violated her not months earlier.

He couldn't contain the smile that graced his face when she brought him his lunch, hoping he was finally making inroads with her. He reached out to stroke her arm and she flinched away, carefully turning on her heel and heading back to the kitchen. They sat in a quiet atmosphere again, both him and Carla jumping at the sound of his cell phone ringing, and he got up to take the call.

He must have been staring at her for what felt like an hour, and she was beginning to worry about what was going through his mind. She gripped the chair, trying to get her body to stop its convulsing, as he made his way back to where she and Liam were sitting. He sat back in his chair and grabbed a forkful of salad, putting it into his mouth calmly.

"I'm going to have to step out soon for a few hours." He stated nonchalantly between chews. There was no response from Carla, so he raised his eyes to look at her again before speaking, "I know the remnant of the migraine from yesterday is still affecting you, but I'm glad at least that the fever broke last night. Still I don't want you trying to rustle something up for Liam later when you're not a hundred percent, so how's about I bring home a nice takeaway for us all? Hmm?"

His mood had flipped again so quickly and she couldn't help but gape at him in disbelief.

"Carla? Darling? It's rude to stare." He smirked as he placed another forkful of food into his mouth.

She blinked out of her trance and narrowed her eyes at him, frustrated with his patronizing tones and her allover feeling of helplessness. She sighed deeply, her eyes closing, as she lifted a hand to massage her forehead.

"So is that a yes then to the takeaway?" Frank asked as he picked up more salad on his fork.

Without looking at him, she simply nodded her consent, and played with the soup in front of her.

"Perfect." Frank beamed as he continued to eat and attempted to strike up a conversation with her. "Well I know its may be the last thing you want to remember but tomm-" he was caught off suddenly

"Why have you brought me here Frank?" her voice was quiet and pleading, and he couldn't help the flicker of guilt that crossed his features as he gazed upon her.

"Because I'm trying to make things right Carla," he stated genuinely, "I'm trying to make you see what life would have been like for us, had we not had that little…scuffle… the night before the wedding." He looked back down to his plate.

"Scuffle?" she choked out disbelievingly, before anger coursed through her and she whipped the napkin down on the table. Her eyes were blazing and her face contorted in rage as she pushed herself to a standing position and glared at him. "You _dare_ to call what you did to me a scuffle?" she ground out, her jaw clenched together.

"Carla?" Frank stated calmly, not looking up at her as he continued to eat his lunch, "Let's not get riled up in front of little Liam eh? I'm sure he doesn't need anymore trauma right now."

"You –" she breathed out shakily, trying to control her rage. "You-" she grunted in frustration and marched into the kitchen, trying to put some distance between them while she calmed down; but Frank was right on her heels.

He grabbed her arm and turned her forcefully towards him, pulling her closer to his body while she tried to wriggle free. He saw the fire dancing in her eyes and felt his desire for her growing. He could never resist a good fight with her, but he knew he had to be careful; he couldn't risk her leaving marks on him when he had a meeting with George. He flashed her a smile, knowing it would only infuriate her further, as he grabbed both her arms and pushed her roughly against the kitchen counter.

She let out a cry of pain as her back collided with the counter behind her, but she continued to fight against him, trying to wrench herself out of his grip.

"When are you going to learn eh?" Frank stated smugly as he continued to restrain her futile attempts to escape, "When are you going to learn that you can't fight me Carla?" As she gave an almighty push against him, he used her momentum to lift her up, spin her, and slam her back onto the kitchen table. Her body landed painfully on the wooden tabletop, and she struggled to catch her breath as he pinned her down and leaned over her. Her legs were dangling over the side, and he kicked them apart to stand between them. He grabbed both her wrists in one hand and forced them over her head, pinning them painfully above her as she coughed, trying desperately to draw air into her lungs. He leaned his face in close to hers and brought his free hand up to caress her cheek. She wriggled beneath him, moving her face away from his touch. He quickly gripped a fistful of her hair and gave it a sharp tug, forcing her eyes to lock onto his.

In the background, Liam began to cry at the scene.

"Why do you insist on fighting me at every turn?" Frank spat at her, "I don't want to hurt you Carla, but you just don't get it do you? You keep bringing this upon yourself." Her eyes were wide as he leaned down and laid a bruising kiss on her lips. She whimpered against him and tried to wriggle free, but the grip on her hair caused her to yelp in pain and he used the opportunity to deepen the kiss. She felt hot tears sting her eyes, as his body lay atop of hers restricting her chance of escape. He let go of her hair and his hand began to caress the side of her body; his fingers brushing against her breast, and her torso before coming to rest upon her hip. He broke the kiss and lifted his head to look into her eyes only to find her flinging her head back to throw Liam a reassuring look as he continued to cry in the other room.

Frank made the most of the chance she unknowingly offered to him, and began to lay soft kisses down her neck. She closed her eyes in disgust momentarily before forcing them open again; trying to keep her eyes locked on her nephew in an attempt to pacify him.

Frank continued to lay gentle kisses around the soft skin of her neck, before pausing at the dip where the collarbone meets the breastbone. Slowly he darted his tongue in gentle circles around the depression and felt her tremble beneath him as an involuntary moan escaped the back of her throat. Against her better judgment, her body began to respond to him; her eyes closed in reaction to his tongue's attention as he edged it along her collarbone causing another pleasurable moan to escape her lips. Frank's hand began kneading her hip, his fingers tugging gently at the trousers she wore as he felt her body begin to relax beneath him.

Liam let out a loud sob, and it shook her back to reality, immediately feeling as if she was going to wretch. Her eyes flung open, and using Frank's sudden relaxed grip on her, she bucked her hips and twisted her body, hurtling him straight off of her and the table. He was startled by the unexpected power she gained so quickly, as he struggled to stand upright, watching her as she rapidly slid off the table and began backing away from him towards the dining room.

He smirked and walked towards her slowly. "Well, it's good to know you weren't faking pleasure when we made love all those times last year, my dear." He watched as she glowered at him, while she edged closer to Liam, "Those sensitive spots of yours will definitely aid me in my wooing of you again." He smirked at her as he grabbed his coat and keys off the coat rack, and headed towards the front door. "Oh and Carla?" he called back over his shoulder, turning again to face her. She was now crouched next to Liam, trying to soothe him out of his crying fit, "Should I return a little later than usual and you choose to make Liam his tea and put him to bed…make sure he sleeps alone tonight." He watched the colour drain from her face as he continued, "I think I have been more than lenient allowing you to sleep in the nursery with him last night, and having you two sleep in our bed the night before that. I don't want him picking up anymore bad habits, do you?" He flashed her a grin before unlocking the door and blowing her a kiss goodbye on his way out.

Carla released a shaky breath as the door shut behind him. She picked Liam out of his chair and pulled him to the ground with her as she cuddled him close to her body and rocked him back and forth.

"It's okay sweetheart," she whispered shakily as he continued to cry, "Auntie Carla's okay, everything is going to be alright, I promise." Hot tears spilled down her cheeks as she kissed the top of his head and continued to whisper sweet nothings to him.

_She didn't know how much more of this she could take..._


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: Thank you for all for the reviews, and to those who added this story to their favourites and alerts, and to those who added me to their favourites and alerts. I'm so humbled you have no idea...and I'm blushing like mad to boot! **_

_**Hope you enjoy the latest installment, and to LoveeCarlaConnor: was Frank's next move in this chapter as you predicted? ;) **_

_**Thank you all again! :)**_

* * *

"Just do as I say, Frank." George hissed at him as he went to answer the door, "don't say too much, don't lose your temper and you might avoid being hauled down to the station." He opened the door to the hotel suite as Frank sat at the small dining table, his hands folded on the tabletop and his foot anxiously tapping the carpeted floor.

"Ahh DC Malone, DC Fitzgerald please, come in." George sweeped his arm in front of him, gesturing for them to enter the suite. Malone made eye contact with Frank, who rose to his feet as she approached him.

"Mr. Foster, good of you to finally make an appearance." She stated sarcastically.

"DC Malone," Frank outstretched his hand for her to shake, pulling it back apprehensively when she refused to take it, "I'm sure my solicitor has explained to you about the mix-up?"

"Not as of yet Frank," George interrupted as he came to sit down, bringing with him a tape player and placing it on the table. "I felt it would be best for all involved if I brought some proof with me."

"It certainly would help." Malone stated as she took a seat opposite Frank, before motioning to Donald. "This is Trainee Detective Constable Fitzgerald." Frank gave him an acknowledging nod as he himself sat down next to George.

"Okay Mr. Foster I'll get straight to the point shall I?" Malone said in a monotone voice, "When did you last see or have any contact with Ms Carla Connor?"

"Carla?" Frank asked confusedly, "At my trial hearing. When I got refused bail the first time for her outlandish accusations against me." He said ensuring his voice had just the right dash of hurt. "Why? What is she accusing me of now eh?"

"I'll ask the questions Mr. Foster," Malone quipped "When did you attend a conference in New York?"

"New York? Oh, no no I didn't go to New York, I simply told Sally Webster that I was." Frank answered

"Why would you tell her you were going to New York when you had no intention of doing so?" Malone pressed curiously.

"Because, look she is a nice woman and very supportive, but she's also incredibly clingy and, well, for lack of a better word, annoying." He answered nonchalantly. "She was constantly calling and asking how I was, and she wouldn't give me any breathing space. My parents are away on vacation, so I had no buffer room with her; and with all the stress with Carla and the looming trial, I panicked and I just needed to get away."

"Understandable. But why New York?" Malone asked.

"It was the furthest and yet most feasible location I could think of. Anywhere closer and she would have either insisted on coming or would have been ringing me every hour or so." He responded

"Funny though, that you should choose to go away just a week after Ms Connor leaves for Los Angeles." Malone pointed out, trying to read his facial expression. "Especially when one of your worker's," she paused to look at her notepad, "an Eileen Grimshaw stated that you overheard a conversation she had with co-worker Beth Tinker, about how Ms Connor left Weatherfield to travel to L.A. in an attempt to 'clear her mind'. How do you explain that? Coincidence?" her voice took on a sarcastic tone.

Frank raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips, shaking his head slightly before answering, "I just took a page out of her book actually. The pressure and stress was getting to me, and I didn't have the _luxury _that Carla did to leave the country because unlike her, _my_ passport has been confiscated, so I simply travelled just two hours away here to Whitby." He answered categorically. "Look, I didn't jump the country, I've maintained the conditions of my bail, so what exactly is the issue here?"

"Ms Connor has gone missing, Mr. Foster." Malone stated firmly

Frank put on his best confused expression, "What?"

Malone nodded slowly, eyeing him carefully, "Yes, for the second time in as many months, actually."

"Second time?" Frank worriedly looked to his solicitor, "did you know about this George?"

"Yes I did, Frank. That was why I was trying to ring you." George turned to face the officer, pushing the tape recorder towards them. "Unfortunately, Frank left a voice mail with my secretary back in November with his new mobile number and contact information. My incompetent secretary forgot to inform me and I was calling Frank's old mobile number and emailing him at a deleted account during this investigation. He happened to call for a check in today and he was more than willing to have us meet him here, at the hotel he has been residing in since November 10th. Here, have a listen." George pressed the play button.

"_Angela! Hi Frank Foster. If you could please pass on this message to George for me; I'm leaving town for a few months to try to clear my head a bit. I'll be staying in Whitby at a seaside resort and I'll be staying here for the foreseeable. If you need to contact me, please call me here at the resort, room number 209, or you can call my new mobile number," Malone listened intently to the message, her eyes never leaving Frank's, "or email me at my new email. My old email unfortunately is getting spammed due to the unfortunate circumstance with this trial. I'm sure you understand. I'll email Angela both of the phone numbers right now with my new email address. Thanks George, and Angela of course, and I hope you can understand why I need to get away. Thanks, talk to you soon, and if I don't hear from you, happy holidays to you both."_

There was a loud beep followed by a robotic female voice, _"Message sent: Wednesday November 9__th__ 2011 at 8:36 p.m. from Frank John Foster."_

"And here is a copy of the email he sent on the same date," George stated, sliding the paper over to Malone and pointing at the date with his pen. "I've also taken it upon myself to pull up Frank's hotel record," he pulled more documents out of his file and placed them in front of her, again using his pen to highlight various points of interest, "as you can see, he ordered room service multiple times, he ordered in-room movies, and so on since his arrival. So there is no way, my client could have been in Los Angeles when he was clearly here."

"You said she went missing twice, when was the first time?" Frank asked worriedly.

"While she was in L.A. Mr. Foster, around the 14th of November." Donald responded as Malone continued to look over the papers George gave her. "She was injured in the attack, hitting her head causing her to suffer from a bout of amnesia. Whoever her attacker was, took her under his care and it was then that she was raped." Malone shot Fitzgerald a warning look.

"Carla was ra-?" Frank asked shakily, crocodile tears forming in his eyes, "No! no who would – why?"

"You tell me Mr. Foster." Malone stated.

"I wasn't there!" Frank stated loudly. "I was here, in this bloody hotel suite." He thought for a moment, "Wait, did she report the attack?" he asked.

"She was examined at the hospital after she was found, yes." Malone answered him evenly.

"Found by who?" Frank asked pointedly.

"Peter Barlow, Ciaran McCarthy and Gary Windass." Malone answered. Frank nodded his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "Something funny Mr. Foster?"

"No, no. I was just thinking how convenient it is that, for a second time, Peter Barlow is the one who shows up after Carla is '_raped'_ again." He stated sarcastically.

"Are you saying it didn't happen?" Fitzgerald asked.

"I'm only saying that it seems to be yet another coincidence that Carla is attacked and it is Peter who finds her. Seems like they are going to quite some considerable lengths to try to stitch me up." He stated somberly. "All the way to L.A. it would appear."

"Seems like a major risk." Malone stated.

"Does it?" Frank asked leaning his arms onto the table, "And yet here you are: interrogating me over her 'mysterious' disappearances."

"Tell me, do you have any proof whatsoever, that my client was in L.A. Malone?" George asked, "Credible witnesses? DNA evidence? Anything that could prove he was in L.A. at the same time as Ms Connor?"

Malone knew she was trapped, "Not at the present time, no." She answered, frustrated that the rape kit that was sent from the hospital was lost en route to her.

"Well, then as we have kindly provided you with everything proving my client was here in Whitby, am I to assume you will be letting my client go? Or will you be arresting him?"

"He's free to go." Malone answered not removing her eyes from Frank's. "For now…"

"Excellent." George said standing up, along with Malone and Fitzgerald.

"Malone?" Frank stated quietly, waiting for her to look back towards him, "please let me know when you find her."

"Why Mr. Foster?" Malone asked inquisitively, "why would you want to know when we find the woman who is, in your words, bent on destroying you?"

"Because I still love her." Frank whispered, his eyes brimming with tears, "And I can't help but think that she is just being used in Peter Barlow's mind games. She's not as tough as she acts you know; she's very vulnerable. And I know that deep down, she doesn't want to do this to me."

Malone stared at him for a long moment before speaking, "Fitzgerald? Could you go ahead and interview the hotel manager? I'll meet you down there." Fitzgerald gave a nod and a knowing glance to Frank before departing. Malone looked to George, "May I have a word with your client in private for a moment?"

"What is this concerning?" George said defensively.

"It's okay George," Frank interrupted, "Really, I'll be alright."

George gave both Frank and Malone an inquisitive look, "I'll be outside if you need me," he stated and followed Fitzgerald out.

Malone turned to face Frank. "Do you really still love her Mr. Foster?"

Frank looked to the ground somberly, nodding his head slowly "with all my heart."

Malone nodded with him, her eyebrows raising as she asked, "and you still maintain that she made up the rape in an attempt to relinquish you as a business partner?"

"Yes, I would never hurt her, especially not in the way she's accusing me of." He answered

Malone narrowed her eyes at him, "Do you remember Mr. Foster how I said that it was quite the high-risk strategy for her to go through to attempt to get rid of you business-wise? By crying rape, having to go through the questioning, the courts, and so on?"

"Yes I do, and I maintain that she obviously will go to any lengths to get rid of me." Frank stated, "I just don't think that if she were in a stable frame of mind, that she would be doing it. I think she's been hurt so badly in the past and I think she is vulnerable and I think Peter Barlow is manipulating her fragile state."

"Hmmm." Malone drummed thoughtfully. "So you weren't aware that Ms Connor was planning on dropping the charges?"

Frank couldn't mask the shock on his face, "She what?" he croaked out.

"Yeah, it was one of the reasons her sister-in-law Michelle insisted she go to L.A. to 'clear her mind'. She, like other women in her situation, felt that by dropping the charges they could begin to acquire back some sense of normalcy to their lives. Her sister-in-law felt it best that she head to L.A. and give that option some serious thought, before doing something she might regret." Malone said to him

"One of the reasons?" Frank asked, dread filling his mind. "What others were there?"

Malone sighed deeply before she spoke again, "Just one. Apparently, when her sister-in-law and Mr. McCarthy returned from their vacation, they found Ms Connor to be in quite a tormented state. According to Michelle Connor, Ms Connor said she felt like her mind was _your _own private playground." She watched as the colour drained from Frank's face, "that she saw you all the time, and that she could hear your voice constantly berating her, which is why she attempted suicide not a week after the attack."

Frank collapsed into a nearby chair, his breathes shallow and rapid, "wh-what?" His eyes filled with genuine tears at the thought of having nearly lost her and never knowing.

"Yes, she barely pulled through. She was found with an incredibly weak pulse, and the doctors nearly lost her once while trying to revive her." Frank's hands began to shake and he dropped his head into his hands, suddenly feeling nauseous, "According to her medical reports," Malone continued on, seemingly enjoying his sudden discomfort, "it seemed she just wanted to sleep, that she just wanted to close her eyes, and not relive what happened to her in her own home by the man who claimed to love her." She observed his reaction; it was clear to her that he was wrought with guilt, and that he had no idea of Carla's attempt to end her life. The only reason she knew about it was because Peter and Ciaran felt she should know how far Carla would go to end his torment of her: that if she felt there was no other way out of his clutches, that she would take her own life.

Malone turned her back on him, leaving Frank shaking and struggling to process what he had just been told. She turned back to face him as she opened the door to leave, "Like I said Mr. Foster," she stated coolly, "seems like an awful high-risk strategy to go through _**simply **_to get rid of you."

She stepped outside into the hallway, and breathed a sigh of relief. She believed that in his own twisted and controlling way, Frank did love Carla. She hoped that by telling him of just how damaged she was, that he would at the very least worry about her fragile state and contact the person he was working with in his panic. '_He has to be working with someone'_, she thought; '_he couldn't possibly be doing this all on his own_.' She had originally wondered if his accomplice was a copper, but she couldn't see any of her colleagues aiding in this sick plot.

She walked down the hallway, passing George on the way and giving him a curt nod, "I'll be in touch," she stated as she turned the corner and headed down the stairs. She couldn't help feel a twinge of guilt for her role in Carla's current predicament. Had she not begun to believe Frank Foster's lies, she would have done a better job investigating the holes in his story the first time around. But Peter Barlow had walked right into Frank's trap, and by doing so he tripped Malone up as well; believing thoroughly that Carla's cry of rape was a way to cover a sordid affair between the factory owner and the bookie. She headed into the manager's office, where Fitzgerald was already speaking to the older gentleman. One thing was for sure. She wouldn't fall for Frank's lies again. This time, she would catch him out.

Upstairs, Frank quickly headed into the bathroom when he heard George opening the door to the suite. Once inside he slammed the door shut and locked it. He sat on the edge of the bathtub, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth as he tried to stop the sobs that emitted from lips. His body shook violently at the images that ran through his mind:

_Carla lying motionless on the floor of her flat…_

_Medics feeling for a pulse…_

_Doctors applying chest compressions, breathing oxygen into her mouth…_

_Her lips…those lips that he loved, struggling to draw a breath into her perfect but dying body…_

He rushed for the toilet, leaning forward and retching into the porcelain bowl. He could hear George knocking on the door, asking him what was wrong and if he was all right.

All right…? he scoffed at the thought. He would never be all right again.

He had to go back to the house; he had to hold her in his arms and ensure that she was alive and well, but knew he had to wait for the okay from Fitzgerald to ensure he wasn't going to be followed.

He wouldn't play any more games with her and he couldn't risk being rough with her ever again, he promised himself.

Somehow, he had to make things right again…


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N: Thank you all for the reviews/favourites/alerts multiplied by a million! :) **_

_**And thank you for the great response to "Wishing I Had Never Left...", I hope to have another chapter of that up soon. **_

_**Hope you enjoy this latest installment! :)**_

* * *

Carla unwrapped the towel from her damp hair. She had decided to use the time Frank was out of the house to take a shower and wash away the dirty, grimy feeling that befell her over lunch; she definitely did not want to be naked when he was around. She squeezed the water from her hair with the towel before leaning over the tub and opening the faucet. She reached her hand under the rushing water, adjusting the temperature slightly before plugging the drain. As the water began to fill the tub, she dried her body off, and slipped on her bra and underwear. She pulled a pair of sweat pants on, and resumed drying her hair.

She dropped a bit of lavender-scented bath gel into the water, before heading into the nursery and scooping Liam into her arms. She playfully tickled him as she re-entered the bathroom and helped him to undress. She carefully placed him into the sudsy water and sat down beside the tub, turning off the faucet as she did so. She leaned her body against the cool acrylic, one arm resting under her chin upon the tub's edge, and reaching her other arm into the tub, playing with one of the two rubber ducks. Liam took hold of the other and began splashing around excitedly, laughing and smiling happily at his aunt. The soapy water sprayed Carla's head and shoulders and she was glad she was only wearing a bra on her upper body. She had learned the hard way years prior that bathing a toddler can be an awfully messy business. She smiled fondly at Liam, remembering back to a happier time…

"_Come on Car, I need you to help me give Ryan his bath." Paul shouted from the bathroom._

"_Alright! Alright! Keep your shirt on Paulywalnut." She responded as she pried a two-year old Ryan off her leg and up into her arms._

"_Whoa whoa whoa!" Liam started as he paused the video game he was playing, "You are jokin' kid?" His question directed at Paul, while Carla shot him a warning look._

"_What's the matter?" Paul said poking his head around the corner. _

"_You are going to get our friend, the woman who generally holds kids like they're footballs, to help you bathe our nephew?" Liam questioned, a huge grin on his face. _

"_What you saying I'm not capable?" Carla snapped at him._

_Liam held his hands up in mock surrender, "No no, by all means darlin' I think you are more than capable of bathing a toddler in his terrible two's." He snickered as she looked suddenly towards the child in her arms, eyeing him from top to bottom apprehensively. "Ha ha! He's not a bomb sweet'eart!" Liam laughed and she immediately turned on her heel and strode into the bathroom._

"_Do you 'ave to keep windin' her up?" Paul asked his brother, his annoyance clear as he followed her._

_Liam let out an evil laugh, "Oh come on, she's got thick skin that one." He shouted. He heard the water turn on, water filling the bathtub. Liam immediately got to his feet, rubbing his hands together, "Oh this I've got to see!" he snickered. He paused to grab a beer from the fridge in the flat that Paul and Carla shared, and headed into the bathroom. _

_He couldn't quite catch his breath for a moment at the sight that befell him as he entered the room. Paul had his back to him, undressing Ryan, and Liam was glad he did. He was entranced with his childhood friend who was now dating his brother; she was currently bent over the bathtub, trying to plug the drain. Her jeans clung to her thin but curvy frame, and he couldn't help but stare at her backside. She leaned back so she was sitting on her knees, and flicked her hair so it flipped over one shoulder, exposing the other toned, tanned shoulder and causing the spaghetti strap of her tank top to slide off slightly. He subconsciously licked his lips at the sight, wanting nothing more than to kiss her soft skin. He knew his older brother didn't appreciate the beauty who he had the privilege to now call his girlfriend, but Liam appreciated her. He loved to tease her, but he appreciated every inch of her gorgeous body, as well as her quick and nimble mind. He snapped himself out of his trance, as Paul tried to pick up a fussy Ryan._

"_Car!" Paul called over his shoulder, "I think he wants you!"_

_Carla, still on her knees, turned to face Paul and his nephew. She held out her arms and called, "Ryyyyaaan!" _

_The now naked little toddler gave a smile and dashed towards Carla before falling into her outstretched arms. She picked him up and placed him into the tub, squeezing some bath gel under the running water after he settled._

_Liam leaned against the doorframe, crossing one ankle over the other as he took a swig of beer. 'This is going to be fun.' He thought mischievously, looking at a basically fully clothed Carla attempting to bathe a hyper toddler. _

_Paul went to get Ryan's pyjamas, leaving Carla, Liam and his nephew in the bathroom._

"_You might want to hand him a rubber duck sweet'eart," Liam offered, "just so he has sommit to play with, you know."_

_He watched as she pushed her hair behind her ears and looked around for the toys. She pulled the bath bag that Michelle and Dean had left them towards her and fished out the two rubber ducks. Liam slid down the wall, and sat comfortably watching as she placed the ducks into the tub and grabbed the loofah to begin bathing the toddler._

_She had not moved slightly, before Ryan took hold of both ducks and began splashing them into the water. Carla let out shrill cry as soapy water splashed all over her hair and face and began to travel down her front, drenching her top as splash after splash bombarded her. Liam let out a hearty laugh at her predicament, as Ryan let out screeches of joy, continuing to smack the ducks into the water. Carla squeezed her eyes shut at the onslaught, waiting patiently for it to end._

_Paul walked back in the bathroom to find his girlfriend completely drenched in suds and water, and his brother keeled over onto his side, laughing hysterically as tears streamed down his face. He shook his head but couldn't help laughing at the sight himself._

_Fifteen minutes later saw Carla drying off Ryan while Liam stared lustfully at her. Her white flimsy tank top was soaked through, and he could clearly see that she wasn't wearing a bra. She paid no attention to Liam, convinced he was simply laughing at her expense. She had no idea that behind her, her childhood friend was undressing her with his eyes, envying his brother for what seemed like the millionth time since he began dating Carla. Paul took that moment to walk back into the bathroom._

"_You crashing here tonight kid?" he asked Liam._

"_Yeah, if that's okay with you two?" Liam answered, looking down to the floor, trying to conceal the blush he knew was creeping across his cheeks._

"_Well we already assumed you would be," Carla said, not turning to look at him as she finished putting Ryan into his pyjamas, "we've set up the room upstairs so you and Ryan can share the space." _

"_And seeing as how it's," Paul looked to his watch, "Whew! 10:00pm, I'd say you should take Ryan up and get him into bed, eh Liam?"_

"_Me?" Liam scoffed, "Why me?" Paul gave him a pointed look, before shifting his eyes in Carla's direction and raising his eyebrows. _

_Liam felt his heart shatter. He knew what his brother had planned and he couldn't stop the wave of jealousy that coursed through his veins. He masked his envious thoughts and covered quickly, "Oh right, 'cause I lost the bet. Right." He stood up and headed towards Carla and his nephew._

"_What bet?" Carla asked him as he scooped Ryan up into his arms._

_Liam's eyes lingered on her wet, exposed skin and to the now slightly see-through top that clung to her breasts. "Oh, never you mind darlin'." He croaked out, before clearing his throat. "I'll see you's in the morning." He leaned down and kissed the corner of Carla's mouth, before walking out of the bathroom._

"_Night Paul, Night Carla." He called over his shoulder._

"_Night." Paul and Carla called together. Carla pushed herself to her feet, grabbing the towels off the floor and tossing them into a nearby hamper. Paul watched her lustfully as she moved around the bathroom, before finally cornering her._

"_What?" she asked him, a smile gracing her face, as he grasped her fingers with his. _

"_Have I ever told you how much I love you?" he asked_

_She gave a small laugh, "Not since yesterday when I made you that delicious cup of coffee." She said wrapping her arms around his neck._

"_Well it was a bloody fantastic cup of coffee." He whispered, his lips lingering over hers as his fingers caressed her skin through her wet top._

"_Paul?" she whispered huskily, her eyes half closing in lust, "Your brother's upstairs."_

_Paul leaned his forehead against hers and smiled, "Well then, we're just going to have to be a little more quiet than usual aren't we?" he asked, rubbing his nose against hers, before capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. She returned the kiss with equal fervor and pulled his head closer to hers. He walked her backwards out of the bathroom, pulling her shirt off over her head as he did so and flinging it onto the floor as they stumbled and giggled their way into the bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind them and collapsed onto the bed and on top of Carla._

A blush rose to her cheeks as she remembered the many passionate encounters she and Paul had throughout their courtship. They married two and a half years later when Ryan was five, and she was still blithely unaware of Liam's feelings for her, and her feelings for him. She smiled to herself at the good memories and gazed into her nephew's eyes as she continued to bathe him, thankful he wasn't as rambunctious a bather as his older cousin.

* * *

She sat Liam on the countertop in the kitchen, gazing out the window at the darkening sky. "I think it's best that I make you your tea eh darlin'?" she cooed at him. He nodded slowly and hugged his teddy bear to him. She pulled out some peppers, cucumbers and tomatoes and rinsed them under the sink before grabbing a cutting board, knife and salad bowl. She caught Liam watching her intently,

"Yeah yeah, I know! Auntie Carla can't cook anything so she only makes salad." She joked at him. She began to slice the tomatoes, when she heard a key in the door. Immediately her hands began to tremble and she tried to focus on what she was doing. She heard the door open and then close, and the sound of Frank's car keys clang onto the table. She remained hunched over the counter, carefully slicing the tomatoes as she heard his footsteps enter the kitchen and suddenly stop.

She could feel his eyes on her, and she began to shake in spite of herself. She took in deep breaths, trying to steady her hands, but her body ached from their earlier struggle and she knew she had bruised a rib or two when he slammed her into the hard kitchen counter. Mentally she wanted to fight until her dying breath, but physically she knew she wouldn't offer much of one. He was emotionally blackmailing her with her nephew and she couldn't bear to think of him alone and in Frank's clutches. As she reached for a pepper, she miscalculated the distance between herself and the knife and ended up slicing her hand with the sharp blade, letting out a painful hiss and dropping the knife with a clang into the sink. She applied pressure with her free hand, desperate to stop the bleeding when he was suddenly behind her, causing her to jump and spin to face him.

"What did you do?" he asked concerned, as he placed down the takeaway bags on the counter.

She walked backwards away from him. "N-nothing, it was an accident." She shakily replied.

Frank reached towards her, "Let me see it," he said gently, but she pulled her bleeding hand in closer to her chest, and continued to step away from him. "Please Carla!" he pleaded with her, "I'm not going to hurt you."

She cocked her head to the side at his words and scoffed at him, unable to control her snippy attitude, "Making empty promises again, eh Frank?"

He lowered his hand to his side and stepped away from her, "Fine, suit yourself. Bleed to death Carla." He turned to the takeaway bags and began taking out the containers of Thai food. "Though it'll be more painful and messy than chasing a bottle of sleeping pills with a bottle of vodka." He muttered under his breath.

Her eyes widened, "What did you say?" she asked him pointedly, and he fixed her with his stare.

"I said, that by letting yourself bleed to death, it'll be more painful and messy than chasing a bottle of sleeping pills with a bottle of vodka." He repeated, stepping towards her. "You know, like the last time you tried to end your life?"

She felt herself gag as her back came into contact with the cabinets behind her, "H-how do you know about that?"

"Oh I make it a point to know everything about you Carla," he said as he stepped into her personal space and grasped her fingers in his. He raised her hand to look at the wound, and carefully tugged her towards the sink. He turned on the cool water and placed her hand under it, watching as it cleaned the blood from the cut and wincing slightly as she hissed in discomfort. He gazed at her face, before turning his attention back to her hand. "It's not a deep cut. But you ought to be more careful my dear." She shuddered at his gentle tone, feeling incredibly powerless and at his mercy. He tugged her again to follow him, this time to the drawer where he kept the first aid box. He placed some ointment onto the jagged cut, and wrapped her hand in gauze. After securing the ends of the makeshift bandage, he gazed into her eyes and kissed her fingers.

"You're trembling." He whispered, pushing a damp strand of hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. She didn't respond, just continued to stare just beyond him. She felt his fingers under her chin and closed her eyes, her emotions a mixture of disgust and fear. He turned her head so her face was opposite his, and his eyes roamed over her as he caressed her cheeks and hair. She eventually opened her eyes and he could see the pain and fear that danced behind the olive green orbs. He leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose, before stepping around her.

"I brought us some Thai takeaway." He called over his shoulder to her, before turning his attention to the quiet little boy on the counter. "You like Thai food don't you little man?" he said in a playful voice, reaching out and tickling the toddler, as Liam let out a multitude of giggles.

Carla turned slowly to face them, and leaned against the counter, folding her arms protectively across her chest.

"I smell lavender," Frank stated nonchalantly, "did someone get a bath?" he cooed at Liam as he tickled him again, before turning his attention back to the woman he loved. "I would have paid to see that you know? I always knew you would make an excellent mother Carla." He said lovingly, as she trembled under his gaze, her shoulders hunching as if to shield her body from his eyes. "I'll get you to see it yourself my dear, when we have our first child."

Her eyes widened and became damp with fear, "Wh-what are you talking about Frank?" her voice quivered.

"Oh come now Carla," he whispered gently, "you don't honestly think I went through all of this trouble without having some sort of permanent plan in place." He watched as she swallowed the lump in her throat, her lips quivering and her arms wrapping themselves tighter around her. "Liam was never meant to be _permanently_ staying here. No, no. Once you become pregnant with our child, I will be giving him back to his mother, who I'm sure will be missing him dearly."

Carla felt sick to her stomach. Her knees began to crumple beneath her, and she felt herself sliding down the counter, her back painfully grazing the handles of the cabinets. She remained crouched over, her arms wrapped around her abdomen, as she balanced herself on the balls of her feet.

"You see sweetheart," Frank continued as he dished out the Thai food onto three plates, "Liam is my trump card at the moment; but I need more **concrete** leverage if you will, to ensure that you won't attempt to run." He popped a dumpling into his mouth, "But more importantly, now that I know just how far you were willing to go to try to be rid of me just a week after I was charged," he paused to look at her, "Well, needless to say I'm really going to need something to ensure that you will never try to harm yourself again."

She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, her eyes squeezed closed, and her hands now gripping fistfuls of her damp hair, as she tried to shut his words out. "No, no no..." she mumbled almost low enough to not be heard.

He crouched down in front of her, "Do you remember what I promised you the night of our engagement? The night Stella was hit?" he began quietly as he caressed her hair, "I told you I would do anything to protect you. That much hasn't changed my dear. But now, I will always be around to protect you from yourself as well." He kissed the top of her head, before standing upright and continuing to dish out their dinner.

Carla remained where she was, silently praying that Peter would find her before she lost what remained of her sanity.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N:** Firstly, thank you again for the amazing reviews...they really do keep me going! :)**_

_**Secondly, I'm finally on twitter! I don't understand it yet, but hopefully I'll get it eventually! I'll post my username on my bio page shortly.**_

_**And finally, here's the next installment. Carla will start to regain some of her fighting spirit back over the next few chapters so don't fret...however her emotional struggle is a huge part of this story, so I apologize if it is a little depressing at times. :(**_

_**Hope you enjoy!  
**_

* * *

Gary sat at his laptop in the hotel room he shared with Dennis and Marcus, searching for any information on Donald Fitzgerald that could possibly be used against him.

"I don't mean to make light of this situation Windass," Dennis said, cutting into his concentration. He was setting up an enlarged map of Manchester, along with all the towns and cities within a 3 hour distance, to the wall. "But we really picked the right careers, hey? Every time we see you, we're using our army connections to chase after the same woman…and not the good kind of chase!"

"I wouldn't mind having a crack at her though I'll tell you that much," Marcus stated from his spot on the bed, "She's gorgeous. How close is she with Barlow now anyhow?"

"They're pretty much an item Marcus." Gary answered, a smirk playing upon his face as his friend scrunched up his face in disappointment.

"Lucky bastard." Marcus muttered as he flipped through some paperwork, causing the redhead to chuckle at his friend's obvious frustration.

Gary's prepaid mobile rang and he quickly picked it up, "Hello?"

"Gary? It's Michelle," came the soft voice through the receiver.

"Hey 'Chelle, you calling from your new phone?" He asked even though he already knew the answer

"Yeah." She responded, her voice hoarse; even through the phone he could tell she had been crying. "Any news on your end?" she asked.

"Not yet." Gary answered her somberly. "We've been tracking his cell phone and his patrol car, but so far nothing has come up. Don't worry though, he'll slip up eventually."

"I hope you're right." Michelle sighed deeply, "DC Malone contacted us. She said that until she gets the names of the witnesses in L.A. and is able to get a statement from each of them, they can't arrest Foster…she said there's nothing connecting him to L.A. except Carla's word."

"I know this isn't what you want to hear Michelle," Gary said in a low and sympathetic voice, "But right now Carla is safer with Frank than not-"

"How can you say that?" She interrupted him, her voice suddenly becoming angry and tense, "How can you say she's safer with the man who raped her than not?"

"Because 'Chelle, if he wanted to kill her he would have by now." Gary stated firmly "The truth is, as hard as it is for any of us to believe, he loves her. He wants to control her and possess her yes, but it stems from a twisted form of love. And as long as he's around, we can trust that she'll be alive. But if he is arrested, and Fitzgerald is in on this, like I suspect he is, he'll do anything to protect his job, and that includes silencing her…permanently." He heard Michelle's sharp intake of breath through the receiver, and knew she was starting to cry again. "I know it's hard," he said in a quiet and reassuring voice, "but that's why we have to be absolutely certain he's in on this before we give Malone the names. We can't risk Carla and Liam's life on a hunch."

"Oh I know," she sighed into the phone, "I know you're right Gary," Michelle sniffled, "it's just that today of all days, has been really hard."

"How did Maria take the news?" Gary asked.

"About as well as you'd expect. She's in bits; She was ready to start a search party on her own last night, but we managed to talk her 'round. Leanne and I stayed up with her the whole night while she cried and shouted and threw things. But she's more worried about Carla's state of mind to be honest, as we all are. She knows Foster's just using Liam as leverage against Carla and that she will do anything to ensure he's not hurt." She sighed deeply, "As long as her son is with Carla we know he's safe, but it doesn't make her any less angry you know?"

"Of course, it's her child." Gary affirmed. "How's Barlow holdin' up?"

"Not good, Gary." Michelle responded. "Ciaran found him this morning sat up on his sofa, fiddling with a wrapped present and staring at a picture of Carla. He must have been crying all night as well, his eyes were bloodshot and puffy." She exhaled a shuddering breath. "It's a hard day for us all; it's her birthday today."

Gary closed his eyes, his head falling forward at the news, "Shit," he muttered under his breath and he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, "What a way to celebrate eh?"

"I best be off, we're going to be making a statement to the media today, releasing a picture of Liam and Carla. Ciaran and Peter should be joining you later this afternoon so keep in touch with them yeah?" Michelle said, sniffling again.

"I will, yeah. Take care of yourselves and remember…stay together." Gary reminded her.

"We will, and you's lot take care an' all." Michelle ordered firmly.

"Ta love."

"Ta."

After Michelle's goodbye, Gary ended the call and looked to his friends, "Today is Carla's birthday."

"Oh shit." Dennis exhaled, rolling his head back to look up at the ceiling, "they all must be beside themselves."

"That would be an understatement." Gary sighed.

"This could work in our favour." Marcus interjected.

"How'd you mean?" Gary asked, turning to face him and leaning his elbow on the back of the chair.

"Well, Foster probably knows it's her birthday right?"

"Most likely." Dennis answered and Gary nodded in agreement.

"Well, he may have bought her something…flowers, jewelry, cake?" Marcus offered. "We just gotta look into some key items bought in and around Manchester yesterday and today; I mean jewelry could have been bought at any time, but flowers and cake would have been bought recently. Maybe flowers were delivered somewhere?"

"Do you know how many people buy flowers on a daily basis, Marcus?" Dennis asked incredulously, "we could be looking at thousands of possibilities."

"True," Gary said his forefinger pointing at Dennis before wagging it up and down in thought, "but it's a start." He turned to face the laptop again. "Dennis you search for flowers ordered or possibly delivered today, I'll search for cakes, and Marcus you take over looking for any dirt we can dig up on Fitzgerald." The men nodded their agreement before clicking furiously away on their laptops.

* * *

Frank forcefully opened his eyes as he felt a soft kick connect with his shin. He grunted a little in pain as he shook away the fuzziness that clouded his tired brain. He was lying in the king-sized bed that resided in the master bedroom. Carla was curled up close to his body on her side, her back to him, and she was slightly convulsing. He watched her for a few moments with concern etched across his features; after all, falling into such a deep sleep hadn't been her idea.

He knew last night that she wouldn't go to bed willingly, and so when she turned for a moment to fuss over Liam, he slipped the sleeping pills he had crushed earlier that evening into her cup of tea. She began to drift off an hour later after putting Liam to bed for the night, though she tried desperately to battle it, and he admired the fight in her. She sat in the armchair away from him in the living room and had drawn her knees in close to her chest. Her eyes were fixed on the television but she would flinch every time he moved, her eyes flashing towards him as if expecting him to pounce on her. She eventually couldn't fight the sleeping pills effects and she fell asleep with her cheek pressed against her knees. He waited a few moments until he was sure she wouldn't awaken before scooping her up into his arms and carrying her up to the bedroom. He removed her sweatpants, leaving her clad in a tank top and her underwear, and slipped her under the covers. He had climbed in next to her, spooning her warm body against his and wrapping his arms around her; breathing in the scent from her hair, and nestling his face into her neck. He fell asleep like that, feeling utterly and completely content.

When her body stop its convulsions, he reached out and stroked her hair, and she let out a painful moan in her sleep, followed by a whimper, before she let fly another kick. He reacted quickly, deftly moving his leg away as he reached his arm around her waist to pacify her. She was covered in a cold sweat, and her body was trembling from the chill.

She was enduring another nightmare. When they had been dating he remembered the few nights where she suffered recurring nightmares of Tony holding her hostage in the factory. He had been able to calm her down then, but he knew that this time would be different; he knew that the nightmares she endured now, were featuring him in the villainous role. He pulled her close to him and stroked her hair, laying gentle kisses along her hairline before whispering, "Carla."

Her eyes flew open in terror as her mind quickly reminded her where she was. She felt an arm around her waist, her back pressed into another's body; upon realization that it was Frank behind her, she tried desperately to escape. Frank was too quick for her though, quickly shoving the hand that was stroking her hair under her body as the other pulled her arms towards her, effectively crossing them in front of her breasts, with his own wrapped around them, pulling her as close to him as possible. She felt his arousal pressing into her bare thigh and began to panic. She started to thrash about, her legs kicking at his, but he wrapped a leg around them effectively quelling their assault. _'Oh God, it's going to happen again,_' the thought absolutely terrifying her to the core. She let out a strangled cry in spite of herself as he held her tighter to his body.

He knew she could feel his arousal, but he was not planning to release his sexual frustration at the moment; his arousal just happened to occur at the mere idea of her lying next to him. _'if she was thinking clearly, she would remember that she had that effect on me from our happier days_', he thought to himself. He held her tighter to him, refusing to let her go until she relaxed in his arms.

"No, no, no please don't," she begged him through the sobs that began to wrack her body. "please…" she croaked out and he felt his heart split in two.

"Carla," he whispered lovingly into her hair, feeling her tears drip onto his arms as she continued her attempts to wrench herself free, "I'm not going to do anything to you. I just need you to calm down. You were having a nightmare sweetheart." He cooed gently to her.

She continued to push and twist against him, as tears streamed down her face in panic. She began to hyperventilate. Her body struggling to take in air, as she shakily breathed in short, rapid breaths.

Frank now began to worry. He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "Sweetheart, come on, you need to calm your breathing." He said soothingly, "Come on Carla, listen to my breathing." He inhaled a long breath before exhaling one of equal length. He continued his steady breathing a few more times before he felt her try to match her own with his.

She felt everything swirling around her, and despite not wanting to give in to him, she was more terrified of what would occur if she couldn't slow her breathing and rapidly pumping heart. She shuddered as she struggled to slowly take in a breath to match his, feeling her lungs press against his chest. His arms began to loosen around her as her breathing slowly harmonized in rhythm with his own. He unwrapped his arms from around her, and she lay still, her body trembling as she continued to come down from her anxious state.

He decided to give her time on her own, not wanting to further agitate her. He slipped out of the bed and threw on his robe.

"I'll meet you downstairs for breakfast Carla. Take your time." He whispered softly as he made his way out of the bedroom.

Carla lay there for the next fifteen minutes, simply trying to steady her nerves. She eventually pushed herself up from the bed, angered and frustrated at how weak she was becoming in his presence. She needed to snap out of this, but was unsure of how she could. She grabbed the pair of satin pyjama bottoms and threw them on, grabbing the robe that was draped over the sofa as she headed into the ensuite bathroom. She splashed cold water onto her face, and looked into the mirror. _'Come on Carla get a grip!'_ she berated herself. She splashed some more water on her face before dabbing a towel to her damp skin. Looking into the mirror again she quickly ran her fingers through her hair before throwing her robe on and heading for the nursery.

"Liam?" She called out, shocked when she didn't see her nephew in the bed. "Liam?" she yelled louder as she ran frantically into the hallway.

"He's down here with me Carla." Frank shouted up from the main level. Her insides twisted at the thought of her nephew alone with Frank and gave herself a mental thrashing for her selfishly worrying about herself that morning. She made her way downstairs calmly, not wanting to frighten Liam.

She turned the corner to the kitchen to see her nephew perched on the kitchen table, a party hat on his head and clutching a balloon in his hand. His face broke into a big smile when he saw her, "Birfday!" he squealed with delight, and she felt her heart melt. Her features softened as she rubbed her lips together; her brow scrunched together as she willed tears not to fall down her face. She went immediately for him and picked him up into her arms, twirling him around with her as he giggled and she kissed him on the cheek. She hadn't even noticed that Frank was also in the kitchen; he simply stood off to the side holding a large bouquet of flowers, watching her intently. He approached her slowly, slipping his arm around her waist and feeling her tense beneath his touch before she slowly turned her head to look at him. She had Liam between them, supplying Frank with the perfect opportunity to lean in and place a gentle kiss on her lips.

"Happy Birthday Sweetheart." He whispered


	12. Chapter 12

_**A/N: This chapter took a little longer than expected...surprisingly, it was a tough one to write. Once again, in the clear light of day, I may not like it and decide to re-write it. (I really am my own worst critic!)**_

_**Thanking you all again for the wonderful response to this story. Your generous reviews as well as the favourites and alerts, really mean so much to me! **_

_**:)**_

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Carla sat at the dining room table, Liam perched on her lap as he ate his toast. She had managed to get some coffee and one of the pancakes Frank had made down her, but she again, ate the bare minimum. Frank sat in the chair closest to her, simply gazing at her in awe.

"I think we should bring some of Liam's toys down here from the nursery," he stated as he sipped his coffee, "that way we can spend some time together without being too far away from him." He placed his mug down on the table, taking in her reaction. She simply nodded her head in response, refusing to make eye contact with him. He knew she would be more comfortable around him if Liam was close by, and in his heart he really wanted to make her birthday a perfect one and try to stir up some of the feelings she used to have for him. It had already got off to a rocky start, but he hoped that after she opened his present, it all would change for the better.

He stood up, using the fact that her nephew was on her lap to his advantage, and stood behind her, allowing his fingers to gently caress her arms. He felt her body go rigid, and her sharp intake of breath before Liam looked to her in confusion.

She knew Frank had her trapped, and she reluctantly gave Liam a smile and forced her body to relax. Frank smiled as she gave in, and slowly pulled the satin robe off her shoulders. He leaned his head down to kiss her now exposed neck and silky shoulders, while his fingers began to massage the tight muscles just above her shoulder blades. "You're so tense my dear," he whispered seductively into her ear as he pressed kisses up her neck to her jaw, nipping at the skin there and smiling as it drew a hiss from her lips. "Liam?" Frank addressed the young boy, "can you go and sit in the living room like a good boy? Uncle Frank needs to talk to Auntie Carla."

Carla instinctively held Liam tighter to her, not wanting to let the only buffer remaining between her and Frank traipse off into the other room. "Carla," Frank whispered, his tongue flicking at her earlobe, "let the boy go; we don't want him getting all confused now do we?" She closed her eyes at his words before begrudgingly letting Liam slip off her lap. She could hear him run into the next room, and she rubbed her lips together apprehensively.

Frank continued his administrations; his hands roaming over her body as she flinched and tensed under their gentle grazing. He cupped a breast in his hand, his finger flicking over the nipple and feeling it instinctively harden beneath his touch. He ran his tongue along her collar bone, hearing her inhale sharply as she tried to fight her body's responses.

"Stop resisting me Carla," Frank whispered huskily as his hand wrapped across her chest to cup her cheek, turning her head to face his, "you know you want this…" His lips descended on hers but she refused to kiss him back. He pushed his tongue gently against her lips, prying them open. He then sucked gently on her bottom lip, his fingers caressing her face, hoping for some sort of response from her. When she failed to react, he became more aggressive; his fingers grasping at the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair, and he used his other arm to forcefully pull her to her feet before pushing her back onto the dining room table. She now found herself sitting on the table, her legs dangling over the side and Frank had positioned himself between them. He continued to kiss her, trying to get her to kiss him back, but she couldn't…she was frozen in fear.

She knew that it didn't matter whether she kissed him back or not, he would take things to the next level regardless. Her hands were behind her, holding her in an upright position as he continued to try to push her down on her back. Her fingers roamed the table behind her, desperately looking for something that could help her out of her current predicament. Her fingers dug into the butter, and she fumbled to grasp its dish. When she finally got a grip of the porcelain between her fingers, readying to push it into his face, he suddenly stopped kissing her and pulled her into an upright position, causing her to lose her grip on the dish. His eyes were wild with desire, and he encircled his arms around her lower back, pulling her into him, so his arousal pushed against her groin and satin pyjama bottoms.

She gasped and her eyes subconsciously began to fill with tears. He leant in to kiss her neck, pushing her robe further off her shoulders when he heard her meekly utter, "No." She turned her face away from him and closed her eyes to stop the tears from falling. He stopped his ministrations and looked at her, using a hand to gently turn her face to his. She opened her eyes and did the only thing she was capable of,

"Please, Frank…" she pleaded with him, "don't…"

The look on her face was enough to halt him, but the sound of her voice broke his heart. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and tenderly pulled her robe back up over her shoulders. He leaned his forehead against hers, as she looked upon him surprisingly. She hadn't expected him to stop; he never stopped the first time she begged him, nor the second time; '_Why has he stopped now? What is his game?'_ she thought to herself.

"Don't move." He ordered her softly. At her uncertain look, he cupped her cheek again, "Please, Carla, just stay there okay?" She didn't want to risk angering him, and so she found herself nodding. He moved away from her and headed to the kitchen. She took the opportunity to wrap her robe tightly around her body, suddenly feeling so very exposed.

He returned a few moments later, clutching a small present in his hands. He stood in front of her and gingerly handed it to her.

"Happy Birthday sweetheart." He said as a smile graced his face. She held the present in her hands and simply stared at it. "Well, open it." He urged her admiringly. Her stomach began to churn, but she closed her eyes and slowly began to unwrap the paper. Beneath the giftwrap was a small box, which she flipped open. She let out a gasp at the beautiful necklace that lay inside. A tear-drop, 2 carat canary-yellow diamond, surrounded by small white diamonds on a white gold chain sparkled under the lights. It was the necklace she saw the day they had gone looking at wedding venues and ended up shopping afterwards. She saw the necklace at one of the jewelry stores they passed, and remarked in passing how beautiful it looked. She couldn't believe he remembered it, and she looked up into his eyes. They were warm and gentle and words simply escaped her.

"I remember how much you liked it, the day we went out looking at wedding venues Carla," he whispered softly as if reading her thoughts, while he raised his hand and captured some of her hair between his fingers, gently playing with the silky strands as he lovingly gazed into her olive orbs. "I remember your beautiful smile that day, and I just wanted to see it again." She bit her lip hesitantly, before shaking her head as if to clear the fog that descended upon it, and she pushed herself off the table, placing the box on the table and spinning around to face him, fixing him with a hard glare.

"Why are you doing this, eh?" she forcefully asked him, "Are you getting some sort of sick pleasure out of driving me insane Frank?" He shook his head confusedly at her words and she began to lose her temper, "because that is _exactly_ what you are doing you know that…? you are driving me INSANE!" she forcefully gritted out the last word, her finger pointed sharply at him.

"I don't understand what you mean Carla." He stated genuinely.

She let out a frustrated strangled cry as she turned around dramatically, her head rolling back before dropping forward as she exhaled a deep breath. She turned back to face him, her eyes glaring daggers at him. Her voice was sharp and pointed as she spoke her next words to him,

"You just flip like a light switch hey? One minute you're acting all sweet and understanding and caring, and the next you're-you're _vicious_!" she spat, "You're ripping my clothes off and forcing yourself on me, and blackmailing me, and kidnapping me and my nephew and using my nephew against me…and then on goes the light switch and you're buying me presents with sentimental memories, and helping me through an anxiety attack," she was pacing now, "and then the light switch goes off and out comes the rapist in you again." She stopped pacing and stared at him, her eyes now flooding with tears and she screamed, "_**Why are you doing this to me? Have you not done enough damage**_?"

"Whoa whoa whoa" Frank said gently as he grasped her upper arms in an attempt to calm her down, her words cutting him to the core.

She pushed against him meekly, feeling herself beginning to break and she willed whatever fight she had left in her to rise to the surface. "No! Get your hands off me!" She pounded a fist on his chest, as she tried again to push him away from her, "I hate you! I _**hate **_you!"

He felt his heart split down the centre. He released her arms and she backed away from him, her body shaking with a mixture of rage and fear. His eyes brimmed with tears as he watched her, before dropping his head in his hands and running his fingers through his hair. "I…love…you…so…much Carla," he said shakily between gasps of air. "I've only-only ever wanted to be with you and have a life with you." He could feel his rage boiling beneath the surface, as he looked up into her eyes again. "But you betrayed me with that alcoholic bookie," he stated angrily as he stepped towards her.

She felt the fury emanating off him and her instinct told her to put as much distance between her and him as possible. But she was fuming as well, and instead she squared up to him.

"Oh change the record Frank!" she snapped at him viciously, "I never cheated on you, now get that through your thick skull!"

"You used me to make him jealous! The whole time you were with me, you wanted to be with him." He accused her, stepping closer to her.

She grabbed a chair and held it in front of her, "No Frank: the whole time I was with you, I was trying to get over him. And I was actually happy with you, until you started trying to control me and berate me. That's what made me realize that I couldn't be with you; I wanted to be with someone who loved me…"

"I loved you!" he shouted

"You lusted after me!" she spat. "You admitted that to me not two days ago. You wanted to possess me like I was some sort of prize to your ego." She firmly planted her feet, not wanting to cower from him this time. "And when I bruised your ego, you took what you thought was yours!"

"YOU ARE MINE!" He yelled as he grabbed the chair from her hands and whipped it at the wall. She barely had time to react before he quickly accosted her by the arms roughly and tugged her close to him, his face mere inches from hers. "Not his, _mine_!" They stood like that for a few moments, locked in a vicious battle of wills.

Liam began to cry in the other room at the commotion they were making, and she felt her heart leap guiltily at the sound. She tried to wriggle out of his grasp but he kept a firm grip on her, his fingers digging into her skin like shards of glass. She sighed and kicked herself for lashing out; this was getting her nowhere, and the only person who would suffer was Liam. She softened her approach, reminding herself that her nephew was the innocent victim in Frank's game against her.

"It's me you want Frank," she whispered, her voice taking on a softer tone, "let Liam go." She watched as his features softened slightly, as he stared longingly into her eyes. "Please," she pleaded with him, raising her hand to cup his cheek, "please give him back to Maria." He closed his eyes at her gentle touch, leaning into her soft hand. "I'm the one who broke your heart Frank, not Liam. I'll stay here with you if you promise to just please, _please_ let him go." Her voice cracked as tears streamed down her face. He released his grip from her arms, the sound of Liam crying in the background pulling at his heartstrings. He raised his hand to her face and wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. He leaned in and kissed her passionately, feeling her tremble against him. He broke the kiss and leaned in close to her ear.

"I can't do that Carla," he whispered. "I can't let him go yet." He pulled back from her and stared into her eyes, his fingers caressing her jaw gently and he sighed deeply. "I love you. And I don't want to hurt you anymore," He sighed and his voice took on a firm tone, "but you know what I want Carla," he watched as her lips began to quiver under his gaze, "and I can't let Liam go until then." He pulled back from her and began to walk into the living room.

"Wait!" her voice was meek and barely above a whisper. When he faced her, she had her arms crossed protectively in front of her, her head lowered and her eyes closed, "promise me…" she started before raising her eyes to look into his, "you promise me that if-" she swallowed the lump in her throat, "that if I give you what you want that you will take him back to his mother, safe and sound…no games."

"I promise you Carla, on my life." He whispered, feeling his heart flutter in his chest.

She strode towards him purposefully, her eyes determined as she squared up to him, her face centimetres from his, "swear on mine." She demanded through gritted teeth, her voice hoarse and wrought with raw emotion.

"I swear on your life sweetheart." Frank stated lovingly, his hand again reaching to caress her cheek.

She stepped away from him, "Help me put him down for his nap," she sniffled as she walked around him, "and then I'll give you what you want."

She suddenly felt sick to her stomach at what she was agreeing to, and wondered if she would even be able to go through with it. But as her nephew ran to her and hugged her leg, she reminded herself it was for the greater good. She bent down and scooped him up in her arms, hugging him close to her as she made her way up the stairs.


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N: Thank you again for the wonderful reviews.**_

_**here is the latest installment  
**_

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She sat on the sofa in the master bedroom, her eyes looking nervously about her. Liam had finally settled after an hour of coaxing, and she was slightly relieved that Frank left her to take care of her nephew on her own. She longed to stay in the nursery, lock the door, and never let Liam out of her arms again until they were rescued. She knew it was impossible, since no one - not even she- knew where they were; so she shakily left him as he napped, and walked to the bedroom to meet her fate, and seal Liam's safety.

She could hear Frank's footsteps as he climbed the stairs, and she felt herself becoming exceptionally uneasy. She'd been in this type of situation before; negotiating her life and sanity for someone else's. Before it was for a friend, but now it was for her young nephew.

The first time, with Tony in the factory, she anticipated that she would be fighting for her life, no matter what his decision, as she begged for him to spare Hayley. She knew in the deep recesses of her heart that he would eventually accept her terms and let Hayley go. Despite his madness, Tony was haunted with guilt over Liam's murder and he wouldn't have been able to go through with killing an innocent person.

'_But with Frank'_…she thought despairingly as she sighed deeply, with Frank she felt paralyzed; he had no remorse for what he did to her, or what he was doing to her still. He still blamed her for it all, and his mood swings were unpredictable to boot; that above all scared her when it came to her nephew's safety. With Tony she had no intention of keeping her condition to die beside him once she heard Hayley go through those factory doors. She knew that when push came to shove, her adrenaline would kick in and she would fight for her life, without having someone else's life hanging over her conscience.

Her sacrifice this time around would be different. This time, she couldn't break her condition as Frank, once again, had the upper hand. Liam, unlike Hayley, still remained in the house with them; and he wouldn't be released until Frank's terms had been met.

'_But maybe,_' she thought desperately as she heard the door to the bedroom close, _'maybe I can change the conditions…'_

Frank closed the door to the bedroom, looking longingly at the woman he desired more than anything in the world. She sat on the sofa, her back to him as she gazed out the window. She drummed her fingers on her thighs before pushing herself to her feet and turning to face him. She wore no makeup, her eyes looked tired and exhausted, and her hair was slightly tousled, and yet he couldn't quite catch his breath; she was beautiful.

She cleared her throat and looked off to the side, "We need to set the terms here Frank." She said matter-of-factly and he snickered in response.

"Ever the business woman eh?" he said smirking as he approached her, "do we need to draw up a contract and have Liam witness us sign it?" he joked sarcastically.

"I'm not jokin' 'ere Frank." She stated somberly as she hugged her arms around her abdomen and looked into his eyes, "I need to know you'll keep your end of the bargain."

"I'm a man of my word Carla," he stated with a cocky shake of his head and she scoffed in return.

"I'll let _that_ one slide, Frank. I'm serious…we need some form of agreement on these conditions." Her eyes darted off to the side again, her voice lowering as it cracked.

"Well what do you propose my dear?" he asked, intrigued as to what her game was, and sat on the edge of the bed.

She lowered herself onto the armrest of the sofa; she hugged her arms tighter around her and exhaled deeply, "I'll," she licked her lips nervously as she looked to the ground, "I'll give myself to you Frank, but then you have to let Liam go." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"No." Frank stated, pursing his lips and shaking his head, his eyes not leaving her. She looked up to him at his quick response and he continued, "You need to be carrying our child Carla before I can let Liam go. Otherwise, I have no guarantee that you won't try to run, or worse, try to off yourself." She closed her eyes briefly before they fluttered open and she looked out the window.

"That could take weeks, or even months Frank." She stated somberly, as she looked longingly at the outside world, "and what if it never happens?" she turned to face him again, "Hmm? What if I can't get pregnant? Are we just to keep him here for the rest of his life?" She watched as his jaw twitched, knowing he had not considered that possibility. She forced herself off the sofa, and approached him slowly, her hands trembling as she neared him. "I know you're not that cold-hearted Frank." She pressed, unsure if she believed her own words. She stood before him and dropped to her knees, so she was now gazing up at him, hoping that her actions would evoke a more positive response from him. "He needs his mother Frank, he doesn't deserve this; he has done nothing wrong," Her voice cracked as a sob broke through, "please," she pleaded, "please let him go."

"I can't in all good conscience let the only leverage I have over you go Carla…surely you can understand that." He whispered, as he lifted a finger and ran it gently down her cheek.

"I give you my word Frank," she stated firmly as she tried unsuccessfully to swallow the lump in her throat, "I give you my word that I won't leave, in any way, shape, or form." Her brow furrowed as she looked up at him, and her trembling hand grasped the hand that caressed her cheek and brought it shakily to her lips. She laid a gentle kiss on his knuckles. "As long as you promise me that he will be returned safe and sound to Maria, I swear I'll give myself to you Frank;" her voice broke as she forced out her next words, "I'll be yours and only yours! But please, Frank…" she begged him, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as she gently pressed his hand to her forehead, "Please, just let him go?" She raised her head to look upon him. Tears lined her olive eyes, and her lip quivered as she awaited his response.

He felt himself wavering; she was breaking in front of him. Keeping Liam here would only further destroy her and he couldn't bear to see that happen.

"Alright," he agreed quietly, and her face lit up; her lips twisting into a crooked smile, "but understand this Carla:" his voice turned serious and threatening, "if you try to run, or you try to end your life, I will find Liam again…" he watched as her face drained of colour, "and I won't let him go next time."

She nodded her understanding. "Thank you." She whispered, as tears fell down her face.

"Do we have a deal then?" he asked as he grasped her arms and pulled her to her feet with him.

She bit her quivering lip and nodded. He pulled her towards him and leaned in close to her cheek.

"I need to hear you say it Carla," he whispered into her ear, his hot breath tickling her lobe and neck.

"We have a deal, Frank." She whispered shakily.

"I'll arrange to have him brought back to Maria first thing tomorrow. I'm sure you'll want to spend a final night with him." He reached his arms around her lower back, pulling her closer to him, "but right now Carla Connor," he whispered, his voice husky with lust, "I want you." He leaned down and kissed her lips passionately, before pulling back again, raising her chin gently with his fingers to stare into her uncertain eyes, "And I want you to be a willing participant sweetheart, or the deal is off." He felt her shudder in his arms, as she took in a shaky breath. She closed her eyes, and gave a timid nod, reminding herself why she was agreeing to this.

Frank leaned down and captured her lips with his again, feeling her meekly return his kiss. He pulled the robe gently off her shoulders and used the material to further pull her into him, effectively trapping her arms at her sides, as he began to kiss her neck and chest. Still holding the material of her robe, his fingers traced up her arms, stopping as they approached her chest. With a very gentle touch, he began caressing the sides of her breasts; his fingers grazing softly over her nipples and extracting an involuntary gasp from her lips.

His mouth continued to lay kisses along the soft flesh of her neck, his tongue rolling over the dip between her collarbone and breastbone. She bit her lip to suppress a moan, cursing him under her breath for remembering all her sensitive spots, as she began to feel a heat start to race beneath her skin. Her stomach continued to churn in response, as if screaming at her to put a stop to what he was doing.

She couldn't stop though, no matter how much she wanted to. She had to ensure Liam would be free of this prison no matter what the cost to her. She didn't know how long it would take before she would be found, and she couldn't risk keeping Liam around Frank and his volatile mood swings any longer.

His lips made their way back up to her mouth and he lay another kiss upon it, his fingers now curling into the hair on the back of her head and pulling her closer. He turned her around and pushed her down on the bed. He pressed his body down on top of hers, making sure she felt his arousal as it pressed against her stomach. He propped himself up, his elbows on either side of her face, and looked down upon her.

"You're trembling." He whispered out of breath, his fingers reaching out to wipe the stray tears that had fallen down her face. She didn't respond, only closed her eyes and turned her head as he began to remove both their clothes…

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She leaned against the doorframe of the nursery, looking upon her nephew as he slept. She ran her fingers absentmindedly up her arm and a soft smile crept tugged at her lips as he sighed and rolled over. By this time tomorrow he would be settled at home with his mother, never knowing what she was sacrificing for him. She could hear Frank downstairs busying himself in the kitchen and pushed her fingers through her freshly washed hair.

He had been gentle with her this time around, but the way he blackmailed her into consenting to sex with him made her feel more violated than the first time he had raped her. She glanced down at her arms, red from where she scrubbed herself raw in the shower; desperately trying to remove the dirty feeling that befell her body and her soul. She knew the rest of the skin beneath her clothes was just as red, and as she pushed herself away from the doorway, she hissed slightly at the stinging pain on her inner thighs. She had scrubbed herself there so viciously that she tore the skin, drawing blood. She paused in the doorway, remembering as she watched it ooze down her leg, and slip into the rushing water, circling around the drain before disappearing beneath the stainless steel. She couldn't help but wish she could simply disappear along with it and she had lowered herself to a crouch, allowing the water from the shower head to gush over her. She had raised her shaking hand and turned the tap, feeling the water temperature cool significantly as it hit against her hot skin. She had finally permitted the sob she was suppressing to escape her, and allowed herself to cry as she rocked on the balls of her feet, the water draping over her like a protective curtain.

When she had finally emerged from the shower, she noticed Frank had left the key to the inside locks on the bedside stand, having laid it there after removing his robe. Wrapped in her towel, she approached the table and ran her finger over the key, thinking of the possibilities: She could grab Liam and make a run for the door, screaming for help as they made their way outside. She shook her head softly, knowing she couldn't risk it; not when Frank had people working within the police department. If only she could contact Malone and warn her of Fitzgerald's involvement...

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the keys; Frank never left the keys out of his reach, why would he leave them now? She felt a sense of dread spread through her as she realized his game: he left it there on purpose for her to find. He was testing her; teasing her with the thought of freedom and would use it against her and Liam the moment she tried to obtain it. She had felt tears sting her eyes, and she let her fingers slip off the key. She turned her back on it and got dressed.

She sighed and moved her way into the nursery. Her fingers traced along her nephew's bag, and she slowly started to pack his belongings into it. She wondered if she would ever see him again; her little Liam…the only thing that remained of her Leebugs. Would he remember his Auntie Carla next year? Or next month? She turned to look at his sleeping form. He was so young; _'surely children his age don't retain memories as adults do,'_ she thought sadly. Would she be forgotten? Would Peter eventually stop his search for her? Would Michelle? She dropped the clothes she was holding and ran her fingers over her face, massaging her forehead in an attempt to stop the onslaught of anxious thoughts. She couldn't be sad for the remainder of the day…her birthday…her last day with Liam. Her eyes caught sight of his jumper, and the hidden little compartment that Maria had sewn into it. She smiled as she remembered Maria telling her why she made it; she would often hold Liam and would struggle to balance his pacifier and –

Her hands froze and her eyes lit up as an idea dawned on her. She craned her head to listen intently downstairs, where she could hear Frank whistling and bustling with pots and pans. She quickly grabbed a piece of paper and pen, scribbling furiously onto the paper, before folding it and tucking it into the hidden pocket. She searched through his bag, looking for the sewing kit. She quickly threaded a needle, her ears listening for any sign of movement from Frank, as she quick-stitched the pocket closed. She then folded the jumper and placed it into the bag, not wanting Frank to see it until it was on Liam the next morning. She froze as she heard footsteps begin to ascend the staircase. She quickly closed the sewing kit and placed it in the bag, before scooping down to pick up the toys. She felt his presence before he addressed her, but she remained on the floor picking up the toys.

"Still sleeping is he?" Frank's whisper traveled softly across the room.

"I didn't have the heart to wake him just yet." Carla responded, slowly getting up and placing the toys in his bag. "I thought I'd get a head start on packing his bag before he woke up," she whispered, "Saves me doing it later on." She looked over to where Frank stood, leaning on the doorframe. His ankles were crossed casually and his hands were in his pockets; his eyes roamed over her lustfully and she couldn't stop the trembles that befell her as he did so. She looked away and moved towards Liam. She sat on the bed and ran her hands over his back, smiling as his eyes fluttered open to look at her. He stretched and reached up his arms to her. She leaned down and enveloped her arms around him as he wrapped his arms around her neck. She carefully pulled him with her as she rose to her feet and lay gentle kisses on his forehead.

"Wanna go downstairs Liam?" she asked him gently, and he yawned and nodded his head, before laying it on her shoulder. She walked towards the door where Frank remained watching her. He moved out of the way so she could pass before falling into step behind her.

"I'll meet you down there my dear." He called after her as she made her way down the staircase, clutching her nephew to her protectively. He entered the master bedroom and felt his heart swell as he looked upon the bed…his triumph. He had finally held her in the throes of passion again, and he planned on doing so as many times as possible from now on. She was tense, and trembling this time…a sense of foreboding falling over her as he made love to her. But next time he would ensure she enjoyed herself as well…he knew how to make her cry out.

His eyes glanced over to the bedside table and a wicked smile graced his face. He left the key for her to find…testing her…and she passed. The key had remained on the stand, and he picked it up and pocketed it.

She was his…


	14. Chapter 14

_**A/N: As always I'm so grateful for the wonderful reviews and comments!**_

_**Here's the next installment. :)**_

* * *

Kirk's eyes scanned across the address on what looked to be an abandoned building, then back to the writing scribbled on the paper in his hands; the names and numbers matched. _'This is an odd place to deliver the Restoff order,'_ he thought to himself. He sat for several more minutes, looking to his watch and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel to the music that blared through the speakers.

He eventually saw a car approach and park several yards away close to the building's docking area. The car turned off, and the two occupants continued to converse amongst themselves. Kirk slipped off his seatbelt and got out of the truck, not wanting to waste anymore time. He opened the side doors, and began unloading the boxes. He heard a car door shut, followed by another several moments later; soon afterwards, footsteps began to crunch on the gravel road towards him. With the last box in his hands and the clipboard in his mouth he turned to face the Underworld client who was approaching. He drew in a gasp, dropping the box and clipboard to the road in shock. Despite the casual clothes on her, the black hair and green eyes were unmistakable.

"Mrs. C?" He asked shakily, his brow furrowing curiously before his eyes drifted to the small child she had perched on her hip, "Liam!" he said excitedly as a big smile etched across his face. Liam smiled and giggled excitedly at seeing his uncle, but as Kirk moved forward, Carla stepped back away from him.

"Kirk," She stated somberly, even though in her heart she had never been so happy to see him. "Before I give you Liam, I need you to listen carefully to a message that I'll need you to pass on when you get back please." She said feeling the tears beginning to sting the corners of her eyes again.

"Have you been crying Mrs. C?" Kirk asked, his eyes scanning her puffy red eyes and sullen face.

"Only since September, Kirk." She stated with her trademark sarcasm, allowing a thin smile to form. Unbeknownst to Kirk, Frank had hooked a small microphone to Carla's shirt to ensure she didn't negate on their deal. She knew she couldn't hint to Maria's brother that she was in trouble far deeper than she had ever been before, but she decided to use the opportunity to remind Frank of how unhappy she was with him.

She sighed deeply, before continuing. "I'm sorry for causing such an uproar, but I need you to tell everyone to stop looking for me. I'm fine," her voice was remarkably steady and she began to think she may be indeed able to pull this off, "I just needed to get away from it all, you know? What with the whole thing with Frank and L.A., and then the news of Dr. Martin…I just panicked and ran."

"But…why did you take Liam with you?" Kirk asked his eyes narrowing at her; he wasn't as close to his boss as the others were, but he had a sinking feeling that she was lying, and he had an idea why.

Her eyes gazed lovingly at her nephew, and she smiled softly as he looked up at her. "He was the only thing in my life recently that made me truly happy." She whispered as her eyes made their way back to Kirk's, "I wasn't intending to be gone longer than a day or two. I thought I'd have returned before Maria got home, but I eventually realized that I can't come back…not yet." Her voice cracked with unbridled emotion. "Please tell Maria I'm sorry for any worry I caused her, and that Liam was properly cared for, I promise."

She shifted Liam in her arms and enveloped him in a bear hug, laying multiple kisses on his forehead as tears filled her eyes. She knew in her heart that she was doing the right thing; giving herself entirely to Frank for her nephew's safety, but she couldn't ignore the sudden panic that coursed through her as she handed over the only thing that stopped her from completely breaking down in that house…in her prison.

Kirk took Liam from her, and she removed the bag from her shoulder and placed it on the tall man's. Liam began to cry at being separated from Carla, as if knowing something was wrong, and he reached his arms out to her as his face reddened and tears gushed down his chubby cheeks. Carla bit her lip and looked away, as she began to cry herself. "Umm," she started shakily, "Please tell Michelle that I'm fine okay. And I'll call her when I'm ready to head back to Weatherfield."

She felt Kirk's hand grasp hers with his own, "Come on Mrs. Connor, you can get in the truck with us now." he whispered, "If Mr. Foster is threatening you-"

"Frank hasn't been seen since L.A. Kirk." Carla lied, feeling herself begin to waver, "For all we know he's still there."

"No Mrs C…he's back. The police questioned him about your disappearance a couple days ago, but they refused to tell us where he is. Malone said there isn't enough evidence to arrest him." He watched as Carla's face fell. She hadn't realized that when Frank had 'stepped out' a few days ago, it was to speak to the police. He somehow managed to be interrogated by them and be released once more. She knew he had Fitzgerald to help him out, but she underestimated, yet again, just how manipulative Frank Foster really was, and the thought made her instantly sick.

She wanted nothing more than to hop in the truck with Kirk, and tell him to drive as fast as he could back to Weatherfield. But as she looked into Liam's eyes, Frank's threat thundered in her ears, _'if you try to run, or you try to end your life, I will find Liam again, and I won't let him go next time.'_ She swallowed the lump in her throat, and used her shock at Kirk's revelation to further her lie and keep her end of the bargain; her eyes widened in simulated fear as she moved away from him and her nephew.

"No…" she whispered shaking her head, "no, no he can't be- no." Kirk watched her as she backed away from him, his brow furrowing, starting to wonder if she was telling him the truth. "I have to get out here Kirk," she whispered hastily, her eyes darting around for dramatic effect, "I have to get out of here before he finds me." She turned around, ready to head for the car, but she paused upon hearing Liam cry out for her. She bit her lip, and turned back to them; she took rushed steps towards the toddler before grasping his cheeks in her hands and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"I'll see you soon darling, okay? You'll be good for your Uncle Kirky all the way back to mummy won't you?" Liam continued to reach for her, and she closed her eyes and backed away from them. "Take care of him Kirk please? Take care of them all…" she pleaded with him, as he placed a hysterical Liam in the booster seat, which had been sitting at Carla's feet, in the front seat of the truck.

Carla's hands flew to her mouth in an attempt to stifle her sobbing. "I'll see you soon," she called to her nephew as Kirk shut the door, "I'll see you soon…" Her heart felt as though it were being ripped into a million shreds. She had no buffer left…it was now just her and Frank. She was completely and totally at his mercy.

Kirk stopped in front of Carla, trying to find the right way to form the next question, "What about Peter?" he asked sadly. Carla felt her heart swell upon hearing his name, suddenly filled with a new sense of determination.

"You tell him," her voice was low but firm, making sure Frank heard every word she spoke, "that I love him…so much. That no matter what happens to me, he is the only one who has my heart in its entirety; and that every day I'm not with him is a day not worth living." Her voice cracked, "but you tell him that I can't come back yet, not when there's a possibility that Frank will find me. 'Cause if he finds me this time, he'll _kill_ me Kirk. He'll mow me down in the street if he has too, I'm sure of it." Her eyes fixed on him, hoping he understood the underlying message.

Kirk nodded slowly and re-loaded the boxes. Carla walked backwards away from the truck as Kirk climbed into the driver's seat, "Are you sure Mrs. C? Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked, hanging out of the door.

With her arms folding across her chest, she shook her head, "No it isn't what I want Kirk, but it is what I have to do." She answered truthfully. Kirk slid into the seat and reluctantly started the ignition.

Carla felt herself breaking down, sobs escaping her, as she watched the truck slowly turn around and drive off. She remained there for a few minutes, softly sobbing and trying to compose herself. Once she was sure that the truck was out of sight completely, she furiously wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand, and took in a shaky breath in an attempt to steady her nerves, before turning around and heading to the car.

She slid into the passenger seat, her face directly forward as she buckled her seat belt, blatantly refusing to acknowledge the dark eyes that were fiercely fixed upon her.

"How touching," Frank's words dripped of venom, "honestly my dear, you almost had me in tears with your gut-wrenching performance. I think you may have managed to fool the simpleton; not that it was a difficult task really…"

Her eyes lowered but she refused to respond to him as her hands kneaded the material of her trousers nervously between her fingers. He leaned in closer to her and smirked as her body involuntarily jumped, loving the power he had over her. "Your parting message to Barlow was particularly moving." He ran his hand over her hair possessively, as he leaned even closer to her, "You know how you said that he has your heart no matter what?" he watched as she rubbed her lips together nervously, "Tell me truthfully sweetheart; do you really believe that _you'll_ still have _his _heart in its entirety? Even if you were to somehow escape me, and my foolproof plan goes down the tubes, he would eventually find out about our little trysts." He smirked evilly as her eyes brimmed with tears, "Do you think he'll have you then, Carla? Do you think he'll have you after he hears of how willingly you gave your body to me…" he moved a strand of hair away from her ear before whispering huskily into it, "over and over and over again?" She closed her eyes at his words, triggering the tears to fall down her cheeks. He reached out and wiped them away with his fingers, "You're mine Carla…" he whispered and she felt herself shudder at his words. He smiled as he gazed upon his prize, using his fingers to grasp her chin and turn her head towards his. Her eyes opened and looked into his, recoiling a little at the besotted look that gleamed there; he raked his eyes over her body possessively, before pulling her head towards his, "…you're mine." He captured her lips with a smoldering kiss, smiling as he felt her reluctantly respond.

* * *

Kirk stood nervously outside the factory holding Liam. He had been to the flat and to the salon but Maria was nowhere in sight. He walked up the steps to Underworld, holding his nephew steady on his hip and breathed deeply, hoping she was in there with Michelle. He ignored the looks from the machinists as he headed straight into the office, sighing in relief as he saw his sister and Michelle sitting at the desks, drinking a cup of coffee. As he opened the door to the office, Maria immediately jumped up and raced over to him,

"Liam! Oh my darling boy!" she pulled him from her brother's arms and spun him around, tears cascading down her cheeks. Michelle stood shakily to her feet, not quite able to believe what she was seeing.

"Where did you find him Kirk?" Maria asked between sobs.

"I went to deliver the Restoff order to Whitby, only when I turned around to meet the client, it were Mrs. Connor."

"Carla?" Michelle breathed out, "Well where is she now?" her voice having risen a few octaves as she glanced out of the window towards the door.

"I-" Kirk swallowed hard, "I left her there."

"You what?" Michelle sneered taking a menacing step towards him.

"I-I didn't want to!" Kirk whimpered as he backed away, "I tried to convince her to come in the truck, but she wouldn't. She said she wasn't ready to come back yet. Then she got really scared, after I told her Frank was back." He turned to Maria, "She says she's really sorry for worrying you. But when she heard about Dr. Martin she panicked and ran, and that Liam was the only thing that made her happy recently, and that's why she took him with her." Something dawned on Michelle and she leaned over the desk, scribbling something onto a piece of paper.

"She was lying." Maria said to her brother between tears, "she left her purse, all her belongings…no. No she didn't leave willingly."

"Well I know that, but she looked really scared." Kirk stated somberly, "I think Mr. Foster is threatening her."

"Of course he is…he's played us all for fools…again." Michelle stated angrily, throwing down the pen she was using as she held up the piece of paper, "The Restoff order was placed in mid-December. It was a small order, and easily done within a few weeks…"

Maria and Kirk looked upon the paper

_**RESTOFF - FOSTER F.**_

Maria's mouth contorted in anger, her breathing becoming rapid as she gritted out, "Frank."

"He had this set up from the get go!" Michelle angrily slammed the paper on the desk. "He planned on kidnapping her and Liam, knowing she would negotiate her life for his release." Michelle closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath before flinging her mug of coffee at the wall, shattering it to pieces, "Goddammit!" she screamed at being played so meticulously. She breathed in steadily, trying to calm herself down, "What else did she say?" Michelle demanded, her back still to them both.

"She said she needs you all to stop looking for her, and that she's really sorry, Michelle, and that she'll call you when she's ready to head back to Weatherfield." He swallowed the lump in his throat, "And she also had some words for Peter but I think I should tell him that personally. And that she couldn't be back to Weatherfield knowing Frank could be around the corner, cause if he found her he'd kill her."

"Wait," Michelle turned back to face him, "what did she say?"

"She said she can't come back yet, not when there's a possibility that Mr Foster will find her. 'Cause if he does this time, he'll _kill_ her; he'll mow her down in the street if he has too, she's sure of it."

Maria and Michelle exchanged a glance. "He won't kill her, and she knows that." Michelle stated, "Being mowed down in the street? She just alluded to my brother's death…_**That**_ is her message to us; that is why she stayed behind and didn't run…he's threatening _Liam_." Michelle grabbed her purse off the desk, her face now one of purpose, "Maria, you and Kirk take Liam and don't let him out of your sight. I'm going to meet the boys, and fill them in."

"No!" Maria stated firmly, gripping Michelle's arm. "We all go together."

"Maria-" Michelle began

"Don't argue with me 'Chelle. Now close this place up, and let's head out." Maria grabbed the bag off Kirk's shoulder and marched towards the door.

Kirk looked to Michelle, who looked back at him; they followed the blonde out of the office, Michelle stopping to talk to the workforce.

"Is that Liam?" Sean asked incredulously.

"No Sean, it isn't." Michelle stated firmly.

"Yes, it is it looks just like hi-" Sean continued to argue

"It isn't Liam Sean now drop it!" Michelle yelled fiercely, before her eyes scanned the machinists. "Now you all listen to me, because this is very important," Michelle's voice boomed across the factory, "You all didn't see anything. For once in your lives do not gossip about what occurred in here today…Carla's life depends on it. Now finish what you're working on and go home for the rest of the day. Hayley? You lock up alright?" She tossed the keys to Hayley and followed Maria out of the factory, Kirk close on her heels.

'_Just hang on a while longer Carla,' _she begged in her mind_, 'Please don't do anything daft...'_


	15. Chapter 15

_**A/N: Thank you all for the reviews and favourites/alerts. I'm afraid I've fallen behind on "Wishing I had Never Left..." as I've been pre-occupied with this fic. Hopefully I'll have an update of that one up within a day or so.**_

_**Here's the latest installment.**_

_**Reviews and comments are always very much appreciated. :)**_

* * *

"Peter, just calm down will you?" Ciaran stated, as he handed a sobbing Michelle a glass of water, before placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

Peter stopped his anxious pacing in front of Michelle, and spun around to face her and her husband. "Calm down?" he breathed angrily, "Calm down? Let me get this straight," Peter stated, his voice dangerously low and brimming with barely controlled rage, "Michelle sends Kirk to deliver an order to Whitby for Underworld; the client turns out to actually be Carla, who tells Kirk she's done a runner, but feels guilty about keeping Liam. So she gives him back but says she doesn't want to return herself because she wants to 'clear her head?'" he threw his hands up on either side of him, "Come on! It's as plain as the nose on my face that this was all orchestrated by Foster, and that she must of negotiated something massive in order to persuade him to let Liam go…and I think we all have a _very_ good idea of what his asking price was…" his arm flung out to the side, his finger pointing at Kirk, as he began to shout, "**and he just left her there? On her own? And in Frank's clutches?**"

"Yes Peter, but-" Michelle tried to interject

"-And you all are telling me to calm down?" He hit his glass off the desk, sending it flying into the wall. It smashed upon impact, causing all in the room to jump in surprise, "We all know what he's doing to her," he continued angrily, "and I'm just supposed to stand here eh?" he gritted his teeth and his finger pointed to the floor as he ground out his next words, "I'm just supposed to calmly twiddle my thumbs in this bloody hotel room, while he rapes her over and over again?"

Gary stepped in and gripped Peter's shoulders, forcing him to face him. "Look mate," he started firmly, "I know you're angry man, but this isn't helping. We're gonna get her out of there, but you getting angry at everyone is only stalling us." Peter pursed his lips together angrily and shook his head,

"I just-" he began

"I know." Gary interrupted him, his grip tightening through Peter's jacket. "Trust me, I know. But the more we prolong this, the more he gains the upper hand, all right?" He felt the bookie begin to relax under his hands.

"I'm going out for a fag." Peter breathed out, as he broke free from Gary's grip and headed towards the balcony.

"I'll join you." Ciaran piped in.

"Wait!" Kirk shouted at the two men. They paused at the balcony door and turned to face him, giving each other a quizzical glance as they did so. "Carla had a message for you Peter, but-" Kirk paused and swallowed nervously, "I don't know if you want to hear it in private or not."

"Not to invade on your privacy man," Dennis interjected, as he placed a hand on Peter's shoulder, "but I think we should all hear it, just in case it has an underlying message."

Peter thought for a moment, then looked pointedly at Maria's brother and nodded softly, "Go ahead Kirk."

The lanky man took a deep breath before speaking, "she-" he swallowed again, "-she said to tell you that she loves you so much." His voice was low and shaky; trying to remember Carla's exact words, "and that no matter what happens to her, that you are the only one who has her heart entirely;" Peter's eyes dropped to the floor, and he bit the inside of his lip to hold back the tears that threatened to fall, "and that every day she's not with you is a day not worth living."

"She's asking my forgiveness," Peter sighed, looking up from Gary to Ciaran and back to Gary again, "for giving herself up to Frank…willingly." Ciaran placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Poor woman." Marcus stated shaking his head in frustration, "This guy has to be one sick son of a bitch; to continue to put the woman he claims to love through this kind of torment? I mean he's gotta be some kind of-."

"He's evil." Michelle interrupted, her voice low as she rocked softly back and forth, "pure and simple…evil."

Gary stood with his arms folded across his chest, "what else did she say Kirk?" he asked quietly.

"She said that she can't come back yet, not when there's a possibility that Frank will find her 'cause if he does this time, he'll kill her. He'll mow her down in the street if he has too." Kirk repeated.

"Mow her down in the street? What does she mean by that?" Marcus asked.

"She's referring to my brother's death." Michelle responded somberly. "Maria's husband, my brother; he were in love with Carla since we were kids, as she was with him; though they never admitted it to one another until it were too late...and too dangerous." she looked to the ground and closed her eyes before speaking again, "He was hit by a car and killed the night of her hen do; her fiancée found out about their love for one another and he hired a hitman to take my brother out of the picture."

"Shit." Marcus breathed out.

"But," Dennis shook his head confusedly, "what does that have to do with her now?"

"My brother's name was Liam." Michelle stated, and watched as the information dawned on the two Americans.

"So she was giving us a message," Gary concluded, leaning back against the wall, "she was telling us why she negotiated to stay behind; Frank was threatening the life of Liam; little Liam…and she had to say so in a way that didn't make it obvious."

"Bugged?" Ciaran asked.

Gary nodded, "most definitely. He obviously wanted to make sure she didn't back out on the deal, or give too much information away."

"Guys!" Maria ran in from the adjoining room, her face was flushed and she was gripping a piece of paper in her shaking hand, "Look what I found in Liam's jumper." She said catching her breath. At their quizzical looks she thrust the paper at Gary, "It's from Carla! And it's addressed to Malone."

Gary snatched the paper from her and unfolded it. Michelle rose to her feet and clambered next to the redhead along with the others.

"That's Carla's handwriting." Michelle choked out, feeling a rush of hope course through her.

**_Malone,_**

**_Seaside town_**

**_Whereabouts unknown_**

**_...Et tu Fitzgerald…_**

"That's my girl!" Gary smiled as he punched the air happily before turning back to Maria. "Where did you find this?"

Maria held up the jumper that was thrown over her bent elbow, "I sewed a hidden compartment in Liam's jumper when he was coming out of his pacifier phase. I kept struggling with carrying it and him, so I sewed in this little pocket to throw it into in a jiffy." Maria explained showing them all the pocket, "and only Carla knew about it! She discovered it when she were staying with me at the flat after...you know." She swallowed nervously, "I told her I kept meaning to sew it up, now that I don't have a use for it, but I never got around to it. But when I took it off of him just now, I saw she had stitched it…which I thought was weird. But on closer inspection I could feel something inside."

"She's just given us our proof that Fitzgerald is involved." Dennis stated smiling, "You gotta give it to her; she's got some brains behind that gorgeous exterior and self-sacrificing heart."

"Do you think Mr Foster suspects that she did it though?" Kirk asked suddenly

"I doubt it." Peter responded, looking around at the curious eyes that befell him, "Well if he did, then it would most likely have negated on the deal right? Liam wouldn't be back here right now, if he suspected her of sending us a note."

"He's got a point," Gary nodded, "but to be on the safe side, if he did suspect her, then he'll try to move her as soon as possible." He walked over to his cell phone, "which means, we gotta move quickly." He began rifling through the papers on the desk, "Dennis? When I tell you to, you're going to call Malone and request a meeting at the café down the street; say you think you saw a young boy that looks like Liam."

"Won't she bring Fitzgerald though?" Ciaran asked.

"No." Gary responded, "Trust me. In the meantime, Maria and Michelle are going to go with Kirk and Liam in Dennis' place to said café, that's when you'll fill her in on these developments."

"What will you three be doing then?" Peter asked.

Gary just smiled at him as he pulled out a card, and used his prepaid mobile to dial the number etched onto it; "Hello DC Fitzgerald? It's Gary Windass. Look man, I'm sorry for the delay, but I finally got the names of the two nurses from L.A. Yeah I know it took long enough, but there was a reason for that, now do you want to know the names or should I be calling Malone?"

Peter smirked as he glanced to Ciaran; Gary was quite a natural liar…

"Yeah well, look it's obviously been difficult what with me being on base to receive messages. But I finally got a hold of the two blokes; their names are Dennis Cooper, and Marcus Draper. Uh huh, well that's where you're in luck mate. My deployment to Afghanistan has been delayed due to a training injury, and I'm out on an extended weekend pass starting tomorrow. Yeah Thursday through Sunday night. Turns out, Dennis and Marcus were on a backpacking trip across Europe, which is why it was hard to reach them. But they are in London for the next few days and I've convinced them to come out here to Salford for a visit." Gary began to pace the hotel room as he clutched the mobile to his ear, "Well they're on their way now, should be here within the next hour or so; I've offered that they stay here with me instead of at a hotel." He nodded at something Fitzgerald said, "Well they're gonna help put the man who raped a mate of mine behind bars where he belongs…it's the least I could do don't you think? Anyways, are you able to come out here, or should I pop them by the station?" After a few moments, he gave the others in the hotel room the thumbs up. "All right! I'll see you in a couple hours. Should I be calling Malone as well? Oh she's out, all right, well I'm sure you can fill her in then. I'll text you the hotel, room number and directions, Cheers mate." He hung up the phone.

Gary smirked to himself, then glanced to the others, "Give it ten minutes before you call Malone Dennis…give Fitzgerald a chance to make up an excuse to her."

"And what about us?" Ciaran asked pointing between Peter and himself.

Gary smirked to Dennis and Marcus, before looking back to the Irishman and the bookie, "You get a front row seat lads…and the chance to give Fitzgerald a little interrogation of your own..."

* * *

Carla glanced at the shops and people passing by from the passenger side window of the now parked car. Frank chose not to blindfold her on the way back to the house, as he had done when they were on their way to meet Kirk. He didn't want her knowing their whereabouts earlier, in case she somehow managed to slip Maria's brother that information; but he obviously didn't deem it as necessary any longer, as she wasn't intending on doing a runner; not when Liam's safety depended on her keeping her word, and he was now using that to his advantage.

She eventually looked over to him; where he sat lustfully undressing her with his eyes. "Why have we stopped Frank?" she asked quietly.

He cleared his throat and tried to suppress his rising desire, "I thought it might be nice for us to go for a small walk through this lovely town, maybe grab some lunch. What do you think?"

"Does it really matter what I think?" she grumbled, looking away from him and back out the window beside her.

"Good point." He snickered as he stepped out of the car, jogging his way happily around to the passenger side to open the door like a gentleman. She closed her eyes in disgust at his obvious enjoyment of her helpless imprisonment, before reluctantly taking his outstretched hand and sliding out of the seat. He shut the door and locked the car, before wrapping his arm about her shoulders and kissing her temple.

"I know you're uneasy with me right now Carla, but we did have such good times together; in Rome, and during our brief engagement." He stopped walking and gently turned her to face him. "And I know how I've hurt you, as you've hurt me," she felt her jaw twitch and her fists clench at his words as he raised her chin with his fingers, allowing him to gaze lovingly into her eyes, "but I promise," he continued, wrapping his arms about her waist and pulling her in closer to him, "I promise, this is all going to put things right again. I will make you fall in love with me all over again. I'll make you see I'm not the monster you think I am." He pressed a kiss to her lips and she resisted every urge within her not to bite down on his lip. He pulled back and wrapped his arm around her shoulders again as he continued to walk down the sidewalk with her.

She listened to him prattle on about the small shops and how the town used to be a port several centuries ago. She found her mind trying to drift to a happier memory; anything to stop her from breaking down at the present time.

She remembered her walks with Paul along Formby Beach; she remembered the car ride to Birmingham with Liam; she remembered this past Christmas Eve with Peter…

"_I'm not used to opening gifts on Christmas Eve." She said as he handed her a cup of coffee and sat down with her._

"_I know, I'm more of a Christmas day bloke meself," Peter stated as he stroked her hair, "but as I'm spending tomorrow morning with Si, and Michelle and Ciaran are due back in a couple of hours, I thought we'd make the most of our time together." He smiled lovingly at her._

_She flashed him a crooked smile back, before she slid off the sofa and moved to the tree, digging through the packages and pulling out two wrapped boxes. She giggled softly and bit her lip as she handed it to him, "Happy Christmas."_

_He took the presents from her and placed them beside him before grasping her hands and pulling her down next to him. He reached behind the cushion and pulled out a small gift bag, "Happy Christmas love." He whispered as he pressed a soft kiss to her lips._

_When he pulled away, he couldn't help but stroke her cheek in response to the beautiful smile that shone back at him. "Well open yours first!" she said giddily._

"_Okay," he replied before softly kissing her nose. He unwrapped the small box first, finding inside a set of black dog tags:_

_**BARLOW, PETER FRANCIS.**_

_**CAREER: KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOUR**_

_**HOBBY: SAVING DAMSELS IN DISTRESS**_

_He let out a laugh at her sense of humour as he put the chain over his head, "Typical woman! You know, these are supposed to have my blood type and social security number on them; not my girlfriend's fantasies."_

_She playfully hit him with a cushion, "Oi, cheeky!" she laughed at him. "Seriously that was just the gag gift, I swear. The bigger one is your real present." She nervously bit her fingernail as he smiled and began tearing at the giftwrap. He opened the box and was stunned into silence. He pulled out a small wooden frame; inside laid the orchid he presented her with on their first date, weeks earlier. She had pressed it, and placed it upon a beautiful satin fabric within the shadow box. Engraved around the wooden frame were the words, __**"Fill my heart with song, And let me sing for ever more, You are all I long for, All I worship and adore; In other words, please be true; In other words, I love you…"**_

"_Fly me to the moon." He whispered quietly, his heart swelling as he remembered the night they sang the song just over a year prior._

"_Is it too cheesy?" she asked worried, "oh I'm so pathetic," she dropped her head into her hands, "I knew I should've just gotten you that shirt and tie-" she rambled, and he let out a chuckle as he grasped her face between his hands._

"_I love it sweetheart. I don't think I've ever received such a sentimental and heartfelt gift." He pressed a kiss to her lips in reassurance. "Didn't you do something similar for your Paul?"_

_She nodded softly, "Yeah, as a wedding gift."_

_He smiled and caressed her cheek, "You really are a soppy little thing under that tough exterior aren't you?"_

_She let out a loud laugh and playfully slapped his cheek, "Just don't you go telling anyone. I've got a reputation to maintain around 'ere, you know?"_

_He leaned in and kissed her, allowing his fingers to play around the nape of her neck._

"_Okay, your turn you soppy mare." He joked, before recoiling in mock fear as she playfully punched his arm. She opened the bag to reveal a small box. Inside was a beautiful white gold heart; shimmering crystals adorning it, and in one corner rested a blue eye._

"_It's an evil eye." He explained as she simply stared at it. "It's supposed to be a protective charm-"_

"_-to ward off evil and bad luck." She finished, as she raised her head to look lovingly into his eyes._

_He smiled at her, "I know you're trying to move on from everything that happened, and I know you're doing really well, but I thought that maybe having a small charm that you can pin you know, on the inside of your shirt near your heart, will always remind you that there's someone out there looking out for you; keeping an eye on you."_

_She smiled as she gazed upon it, "It's beautiful."_

_He caressed her cheek softly and lovingly, "not as beautiful as you." He leaned in and kissed her passionately, feeling her wrap her arms around his neck and pull him closer to her. He gently pushed her back on the couch, breaking the kiss only to gaze down upon her before saying gently, "I love you Carla Connor."_

"_I love you too, Peter Barlow." She said, pressing her forehead against his._

_He laid another gentle kiss on her lips, before whispering "Merry Christmas sweetheart."_

She was so lost in the memory that she hadn't realized they stopped walking until he pulled her in for another kiss. She broke the kiss gently, so as not to anger him,under the guise of raising her head and glancing behind him.

"Do you remember Carla, the day after your mum's funeral, I told you I would one day bring you somewhere to have proper fish and chips?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her waist again and gazing at her.

"Whitby," She answered her eyes widening, "we're in Whitby?"

"You remembered." He smiled smugly, running a hand over her hair lovingly. "You see?" he leaned in and pressed another kiss to her lips, "we're making progress." He headed into the shop, leaving her standing outside.

She couldn't believe it: They were just two hours away from Weatherfield…_two hours_ away from her friends, family…and Peter. She closed her eyes and reached her hand into her blouse, her fingers grasping the evil eye pendant she pinned on the inside of her shirt close to her heart, as Peter had told her to, and fingered it gingerly.

Her eyes drifted up to the sky, _'Who am I kidding? I've never had good luck in my life before...why start now eh?' _She thought to herself as she sighed deeply, before following Frank inside.


	16. Chapter 16

_**A/N: Thanking you all again for the wonderful reviews and amazing comments on this story.**_

_**I think this is the longest I've gone between updates, so I apologize profusely to you all!**_

_**This chapter contains some scenes of a sexual nature. You have been warned! I have a feeling some of you may hate me for it...**_

_**...but yet again, it had to be done!**_

_**As always reviews and comments are greatly appreciated! :)**_

* * *

Fitzgerald scribbled some words onto his notepad. He was sitting in Gary's hotel room in Salford, silently planning on how to get rid of the two witnesses and the redhead. He nodded his head, pretending he was paying close attention to what they were saying, before glancing up to the men in front of him.

"So what happened after you placed Ms Connor on the gurney?" he asked them.

"Well, myself and two other nurses wheeled her down the hallway to the operating room; we were checking her blood pressure and vitals." Dennis responded

"And I was trying to calm her fiancée down…well the man who claimed he was her fiancée…" Marcus stated.

"How did he seem?" Fitzgerald asked.

"Quite torn up if I'm honest." Marcus replied, "Looked like his heart was ripped to shreds, didn't it?" he asked Dennis, who nodded in reply.

"Hardly sounds like the behaviour of a man who attacked her does it?" Fitzgerald asked, his eyebrow raising.

"Oh no that's the pretty common reaction actually." Dennis responded, "We've seen many men who abuse their wives in quite a state when they arrive at the hospital. Many times they don't realize how hard they've hit them, until they see them unconscious and it scares them," he leaned back in his chair and threw a foot up onto the desk, "most times though it's that they are terrified of what she'll say when she gains consciousness."

Fitzgerald's eyes darkened as he pulled out a number of photos and lay them across the table, "is the man you saw at the hospital in one of these photos?"

Marcus and Dennis saw the photo of Frank right away, but pretended to mull over the others.

"That's him." Marcus said pointing to the photo of Frank, and Dennis nodded his agreement.

"Are you sure?" Fitzgerald stated.

"Positive. I never forget a face." Dennis reaffirmed allowing a smirk to cross his features.

Fitzgerald nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing at the men and his fingers absentmindedly stroked the gun on his hip. His and Foster's foolproof plan was beginning to crack; he'd need to make his move quickly…

* * *

Darkness had fallen over Salford by the time Malone arrived at her destination. She parked her off-duty cruiser into an available spot and turned off the ignition. Stepping out of the car, she carefully took in her surroundings; there were multiple military personnel and off-duty soldiers walking the streets. Many were strolling with their families, while others were clearly on a pass from the nearby base.

She pursed her lips together and glanced at her notepad, finding this to be an odd place for someone to have seen little Liam Connor in; but with very few leads and no evidence to tie Frank Foster to Liam and Carla's kidnapping, she had to take every phone call reporting a sighting seriously. With a final glance to her notepad, and ensuring her car was locked, she entered the café and glanced around at the occupants.

"Table, miss?" the man behind the counter addressed her.

"No thank you I'm meeting someone. Actually, maybe you can help me," she stated as she approached him, "I'm meeting someone called Dennis Cooper?"

"Do you have your badge?" the man whispered as he leaned across the counter.

"I beg your pardon?" Malone responded, her eyebrows raising curiously.

"I need to ensure that you are who I think you are before I show you to where Mr Cooper is waiting." He plainly stated.

Malone narrowed her eyes at him before pulling out her badge and flashing it at him, "Satisfied are we?" she stated coolly and the man nodded his head.

"Follow me." He gestured for her to follow him around the counter and through the back. With a final glance around the café, she reluctantly followed the man, finding the whole situation rather strange.

"Sorry for all the secrecy," the man stated as they entered the staff only area, "but we military folk look out for one another, even us retired ones. I had to make sure you weren't someone else."

"And why is that exactly?" Malone asked; her curiosity now piqued as they stopped in front of a door.

The man turned and smiled at her, "You'll see." He pushed open the door, revealing a darkened, windowless room. It was dimly lit, and in the centre of the open space was a round table with three adult occupants and a small child. Malone stepped into the room, her eyes adjusting to the lighting, and recognizing the two women almost immediately,

"Ms Connor? Mrs McCarthy?" She addressed them suspiciously

"Let me know if you need anything." The man stated from behind her.

"Thanks Gareth." Michelle thanked him as he shut the door behind Malone.

"Is that?" Malone gestured to the small boy on the Kirk's lap.

"My son Liam? Yes it is." Maria answered.

"When did you find him?" Malone asked, "and why did you not inform us immediately?"

"Well we're informing you now, and why we didn't earlier will be explained." Michelle responded, before gesturing to the unoccupied chair, "have a seat."

Malone raised an eyebrow and sat in the seat next to Kirk and across from Maria and Michelle. "So where is this Dennis Cooper, then?"

"He's dealing with your man Fitzgerald." Maria answered smugly

"Eh?" the detective responded.

"Tell me detective, have you not wondered why there was so little evidence linking Foster to both the incident in L.A. and with this current situation?" Michelle began slowly, "have you not wondered why evidence like the rape kit that contained Frank's DNA—the one piece of absolute positive proof that he was there-, somehow _'mysteriously'_ went missing? And how about how he was able to maneuver in and out of the country so easily without a passport?" Michelle now leaned forward on the table, "have you not yet deduced that Foster's got a copper working on the inside?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," Malone responded truthfully, "but there is, as suspected, very little evidence to discover who it could be. Why? You think it's Fitzgerald?" she asked scoffing.

"No." Maria answered shaking her head as a smirk played across her face, "We _know_ it's Fitzgerald…and now we have the evidence to prove it." She placed the folded piece of paper on the table and slid it over to the detective. "This was found sewn into a pocket in my son's jumper," Maria stated as Malone began to open the open the paper, "it's Carla's handwriting."

"Here's a picture that Carla gave to me on my wedding day," Michelle said picking a small photo out of her wallet and sliding it too across the table towards Malone, "look at the back. You see? The handwriting matches."

Malone quietly observed both pieces of evidence, kicking herself for not seeing Fitzgerald's involvement sooner. "This doesn't link Foster to her abduction though," she swallowed before continuing, "this doesn't prove that Fitzgerald is working with Frank and not someone else."

"Oh we know it's Foster, he wasn't as clever as he thought he was when he set this whole thing up with a fake order to Underworld." Maria responded

"Fake order?" Malone asked inquisitively.

"The one he used to draw me out to Whitby so Ms Connor could hand Liam over." Kirk finally spoke up, his voice tinged with anger.

"Alright," Malone stated, leaning forward on the table with her elbows, her eyes scanning the three people in front of her, "I'll need you to tell me everything."

* * *

Fitzgerald rose from his seat, "Well I thank both of you for your cooperation," he stated as he outstretched his hand to them, "and to you of course Mr. Windass. Take care of that arm eh?" he gestured to the sling; Gary nodded his head as Dennis and Marcus shook Donald's hand.

Fitzgerald gestured with his thumb towards the bathroom behind him, "Do you mind if I uhh?"

"Oh," Gary shook his head, "yeah, please be my guest." As he watched the officer walk into the bathroom, the redhead backed up, and pushed open the adjoining room's door, sticking a finger over his lips and gesturing for Peter and Ciaran to come through.

Marcus quietly walked past the bathroom and leaned against the wall where the door would open and effectively conceal him from Donald's view.

"He's been fingering that gun of his Windass," Dennis whispered, lifting his right pant leg and pulling a gun from the holster, "twenty to one says he's in there putting on a silencer." Gary nodded stiffly, pulling a handgun from his sling as he removed it from his injury-free arm, while Marcus pulled his from behind his back. They heard the toilet flush, and Gary gestured for everyone except Marcus to get down or take cover.

The door to the bathroom slowly edged open. Fitzgerald slinked around the side of the doorframe, clutching his gun in front of him. His eyes peered around the corner, but he was met with what seemed to be an empty room. He carefully stepped out of the bathroom and onto the carpet of the main room, his eyes narrowing at the now ajar door leading to the adjoining suite.

He smirked to himself, "gotcha", he whispered as he leveled the gun ahead of him and began walking slowly towards the door.

"Take another step, and I'll put a bullet right through your skull." A voice quietly ordered from behind him, and Fitzgerald froze, "now put the gun on the floor, and stand up slowly with your hands in the air, _officer._" Marcus snarled.

Gary and Dennis appeared from their places behind the bed, and around the corner from the bathroom, each brandishing their own guns and aiming them at him as well.

Fitzgerald smirked at them, "You know, even us trained officers can miss shots taken at such close range," he stated as he bent his knees to the ground in order to place his gun down, "do you really think a nurse with a cowboy complex stands a chance?"

"Probably not," Marcus stated, "I guess it's a good thing I'm a sniper in the U.S. Army then hey?" He stated as the barrel of his gun touched the back of Fitzgerald's head, "tell me: what do you think my odds are now mate?" Fitzgerald bit the inside of his lip nervously as he raised his hands on either side if his head and rose to a standing position.

"If you're feeling lucky, I can take that bet for you?" A voice to his left stated, and he turned his head to see Peter coming to stand before him. His eyes narrowed as he glared at the bookie, cursing himself for his stupidity; he'd been completely set up.

Dennis reached down and picked up Fitzgerald's gun as Peter squared up to the officer, his nose mere inches from the man's.

"I think you've got some explaining to do, _mate_…" Peter gritted out.

* * *

Carla walked through the now empty nursery, her fingers grazing over the frame of the bed. She paused at the side of the mattress, picking up the blankie Liam had snuggled into the past few nights. She rose the soft material to her nose, inhaling the scent of the lavender that still lingered there from his baths. She felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness wash over her, as tears welled in her eyes.

She felt his presence behind her before he even made a sound; her skin crawled as she felt his hot breath on her neck. She stared straight ahead as his fingers grazed over her hips, his nose gently brushing against the nape of her neck.

"You miss him don't you?" he whispered softly into her ear, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her back into him and resting his chin on her shoulder.

"He's my nephew Frank, not my son." She stated, though her voice gave away her true emotions.

"Well, that is true," he agreed softly, nibbling on her ear before turning her around to face him, "which is why I think we need to have a little one of our own as quickly as possible," he kissed her gently and allowed his lips to simply hover over hers as he whispered, "because this house just got a whole lot quieter…" he pressed a hungry kiss on her mouth, and walked her backwards out of the nursery. He began removing his jacket, and unbuttoning his shirt as he pushed her into the master bedroom.

She tried to move away from him as his hands began to remove her clothing but his grip on her was firm. He gently pushed her onto the bed and climbed over her, laying kisses down her neck and chest as he pushed her top up over her head. He pulled down her trousers, before sitting back on his knees, unbuckling his belt as he stared lustfully down upon her.

She turned her head to the side, and closed her eyes, trying to remove herself from her body. She had resigned to herself that she would give him her body willingly for Liam's safety; but despite his wanting her to partake in his domination over her, that didn't mean she had to enjoy it.

He looked down at her, pulling off her knickers as she trembled beneath him. He leaned over her, his knees gently pushing her legs apart. He watched her swallow apprehensively, her eyes clenching together in anticipation. He smiled as he leaned down and lay kisses down her chest to her right breast, his mouth closing over the nipple and darting his tongue around it. She bit her lip in an attempt to suppress a moan, but she wasn't expecting what occurred next…

Frank's hand slipped down her stomach; his fingers lightly grazing over her hot flesh. Her eyes flew open and she was greeted with his triumphant look as his hand edged ever lower.

'_No no no…'_ she began to panic and started to wriggle beneath him; her body twisting in an attempt to wrench herself free as it dawned on her exactly what he was planning on doing.

He used his body weight to pin her beneath him, his fingers reaching their destination as his free hand reached up to stroke her face and hair.

"Stop fighting me Carla," he ordered her softly, as he pressed his lips to hers, his fingers playing with her bud as she writhed around beneath him; her hand trying to pry his fingers away from her sensitive spot. "I want you to cum." He huskily whispered.

She couldn't stop the heat that spread through her body; she couldn't stop the arousal she began to feel as his fingers teased and applied gentle pressure on her bud. Her head began rolling from side to side as she tried to will her orgasm not to occur. Two of his fingers slipped inside her, his thumb continuing to apply pressure on her bud as he thrust his fingers in and out of her. A moan escaped her as she raised her hands to her hair, clutching fistfuls of it between her fingers, her back arching against him as he pleasured her.

He smiled down at her as he quickly removed his fingers and positioned himself between her legs, thrusting his cock into her as she began to climax. "Cum for me Carla…" he whispered as he increased his speed and she could no longer hold back. She reached up around him, her fingers digging into his back, as she cried out, her orgasm taking over her entire body, while he moaned in satisfaction…

She shot up in the bed; her body covered in a cold sweat. Her body trembled as she struggled to control her ragged breathing. She glanced next to her to see Frank asleep, and carefully slipped out of the bed. Crossing the room and entering the master bathroom, she immediately turned on the tap and splashed cold water on her face, trying to differentiate between what was a dream and what was reality.

She remembered coming back to the house after their lunch in town. She remembered him making her dinner later on that evening…she remembered falling asleep on the couch as they watched a movie.

He didn't initiate sex with her that night…he simply brought her up to bed and cuddled next to her, somehow seemingly content to just be laying with her.

She sat on the edge of the tub as realization dawned on her: it was all just a dream; he didn't force her to feel pleasure this night.

She sighed in relief, but as she ran her fingers through her damp, sticky hair, she knew it was only a matter of time before the inevitable occurred.

She just prayed her note was found in Liam's jumper, and that she would be rescued before he forced himself on her again, and her nightmare became reality...


	17. Chapter 17

_**A/N: Thank you all again for the lovely reviews and comments both here and via twitter! I really appreciate them, and it keeps me going.**_

_**Here is the latest installment, and as always comments are always very much appreciated: positive or negative! :)**_

* * *

Carla mindlessly played with the mug in her hands as she sat at the kitchen table. Having been unable to fall back asleep after her horrifying dream, she quietly grabbed her robe and exited the bedroom, leaving a sleeping Frank in her wake. She took advantage of the time she had alone to investigate the house fully. She checked the windows, the doors, the multiple rooms; it was, for all intents and purposes, the perfect prison.

In a horrible bout of irony, it was the type of house she had once dreamed of living in when she was little. It was the life-size version of the dollhouse-esque homes she used to cut out of magazines and stick in her scrapbook, wishing desperately to escape the home she shared with her mother and brother on the council estate. More recently though, it was the sort of place that she could see herself and Peter move into further along into their relationship; possibly raising Simon, and maybe even a child of their own.

But this house, _this particular house_, was nothing short of a nightmare.

On the drive home from town the day prior, she realized just how secluded the house was from any form of civilization. The driveway was long and winding, the house tucked deeply into foliage and hidden from the view of the country road it curved off from. She wasn't entirely surprised though, having known for quite some time that they were isolated from other homes prior to the drive back. When she had been minding Liam, she would often look out the windows, desperately hoping to catch the eye of a passerby, but Frank had covered every possible eventuality: doors were locked from the inside and the windows were made of some sort of reinforced glass; they showcased either a view of trees and meadows, or soft rolling hills; the screens on the other side of them, like the doors, were locked. There was no landline; no way of reaching the outside world. Nevertheless, what remained the most distressing of all to Carla, was that there didn't appear to be another soul in sight for miles; there was no one around to hear her scream. After a thorough investigation of the house, she dragged herself into the kitchen. She refused to go back upstairs, despite her fatigue, and had set about making herself a cup of coffee.

She stood up from her seat at the table, and walked over to the bay window on the other side of the kitchen, sitting herself down on its cushioned bench and curling her legs up in front of her, her back leaning against the side. She leaned her head back against the wall and looked longingly at the view before her; in the far distance she could just make out the sun rising over a body of water. The few times Frank had wandered in and out of the house during her first days of captivity, the salty sea air had drifted inside the pristine home; the smell had been her only inclination at the time that the house resided in a seaside town. But when she wrote her S.O.S. note to Malone and stuffed it into Liam's jumper, she had no idea that the town could have possibly been Whitby, even though hindsight now told her it was plenty obvious. Frank had talked about this town constantly during their short and tumultuous relationship, and she kicked herself mentally for not realizing it when she had the chance to inform the authorities. Now she was stuck in one of the many seaside towns in England; and she resigned to herself that Malone wouldn't even know where to begin looking. She sighed and took a sip of her coffee before setting the mug lightly on her knees, her fingers idly drumming against it, as her tired eyes continued to stare out into the distance. After some time, she felt her eyes begin to close, her exhaustion finally setting in.

This was how Frank found her a few hours later, dozing against the bay window, idly clutching the remainder of the now cold coffee in her hands. He carefully plucked the mug from her fingers watching her mumble something incoherently in her sleep. He smiled at her innocent-like state, and sat on the bench at her knees so he was facing her. He reached out and caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers, and gazed at her lovingly as she stirred and sighed. Her head rolled gently from side to side before her eyes fluttered open and settled warily on her captor. She forced her body not to jump; resigning herself to no longer give him more power than he already had. Instead she simply turned her head sharply away from his touch and looked out the window.

"How long have you been sat there?" she asked him dryly

He frowned at her repulsion to his touch, "only a few moments. I noticed you weren't in our bed when I woke up and I came down to look for you." His voice took on a softer tone, as he tried again to caress her cheek, "I thought you might have done a runner."

"What while you have my nephew's life hanging over me?" she scoffed, though not moving away from his persistent touch this time, "no Frank, I made a promise and I keep my word."

"Like you kept your word to be my wife?" he stated, his voice tinged with anger.

"That was different." She whispered as she continued to look out the window, afraid to look into his eyes.

"Why?" he asked sharply, gently grasping her chin between his thumb and forefinger and gently pulling it to look into her eyes, "why was _that_ promise different Carla?"

She exhaled deeply, "Don't start this again Frank please." She whispered pleadingly.

He didn't want to drop it; but he knew continuing the conversation would only cause him to erupt and possibly damage the small progress he believed he was making with her. Instead, he leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on her lips before dropping his fingers from her chin and standing up. Her eyes followed him as he rose to his feet and towered above her, not knowing what to expect from him next.

"How's about I make us some fresh coffee, eh? And would you like toast for breakfast or eggs?" he asked chirpily as she stared at him in bewilderment.

"Toast," she responded quietly before adding a somber "thank you."

"Your wish is my command." He stated, leaning down and kissing the top of her head before walking towards the fridge.

She remained sitting at the bay window, drawing her knees up to her chest and watching him as he busied himself around the counter.

"So how long have you been down here then?" he asked after a few minutes as he scooped the coffee grounds into the filter.

"About four hours or so." Carla answered him softly, looking at the wall clock and stifling a yawn.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked concerned, his eyes shifting to look at her. Her eyes lowered to her knees and she shook her head in response. He pressed the start button on the coffee machine before walking around the counter and leaning against it. He crossed his right foot over his left, as he looked upon her with worry, "nightmare?" She rubbed her lips together and nodded her head. "What about?" he asked shakily, already knowing the answer. She simply raised her eyes to look into his in response; the revulsion clearly dancing behind the green spheres. He pursed his lips and nodded softly before pushing himself off the counter and walking slowly towards her.

"I deserve that," he stated as he sat down on the bench with her, "I know it." He looked out the window as he formed the next words in his mind. "I never used to be like this you know?" He whispered truthfully, and she narrowed her eyes at him in confusion as he continued, "this controlling, this possessive." He sighed deeply, bringing a hand up to massage his forehead, "I used to be a normal bloke. A loving boyfriend, a forgiving man, a sympathetic one…"

"So what changed?" Carla asked in a voice barely audible; wanting to know, but afraid of what she would hear at the same time.

"Emma." Frank responded quietly, slowly turning his head to look into her eyes. "She was my girlfriend in university. We were together two years, and I was madly in love with her." He looked down to his hands, "I was so trusting of her, proud of the independence she maintained throughout our relationship;" he sighed deeply, "but that was my fatal mistake. I found her one evening in our bed with her ex."

Carla hugged her knees closer to her and bit the inside of her lip. This was the first time Frank Foster opened up to her about his past. She couldn't help but be completely transfixed on him; his posture slumped against the wall across from her, his eyes sad and downtrodden, and he picked at his nails absentmindedly. This wasn't the Frank that she knew; the man who never showed any form of vulnerability for more than a split second, was now exposing a side of himself to her that she began to believe he had been trained to suppress since he was a child. She continued to watch him intently, being sure to keep her biting comments to herself as she pressed her back into the wall behind her; still maintaining her distance from him, unsure of when or if he would revert back to his impermeable state.

He sighed deeply, closing his eyes painfully as the memories of pleasurable moans filled his ears as he remembered opening the door to his flat all those years ago. "She was seeing him for months," he whispered, "my father was right, you know? For years she was just stringing me along, acting like she loved me more than anything, when the whole time she was with me, she just wanted to be with him. He used to tell me when I was a child how manipulative and sneaky women are, how they had to be put in their place and not given too much independence. I always thought he was exaggerating, until two women that I loved more than anything in this world both broke my heart…both of them in love with another man."

Carla's mind began to race at the mention of Sam Foster, remembering the way he ogled her the night of their engagement party; remembering the way he bossed around his wife; remembering the look of almost smugness on his face at the courthouse when he looked from Carla to his son, and the look of disdain he set upon her, as he stated to his wife to _'not give her the satisfaction'_ of upsetting them. It suddenly dawned on her as she stared at Frank; his father molded him into the person he was before her; Sam knew what he was capable of when he walked into that courtroom, and possibly trained him in how to get away with it. She suddenly felt sick at the idea that a father could teach his son to do something so despicable to a woman, and a rush of pity coursed through her for the man before her at being manipulated and brainwashed at such a young age.

"_She betrayed you Frank," his father's voice taunted him, "she made you look like a weak little pansy."_

"_Stop it-" Frank put his head between his hands trying to cover his ears, but his father kept pressing._

"_She never loved you. She never wanted to be with you, she only ever wanted to be with him."_

"_No." Frank whispered _

"_She was just using you, Frank. Using you to win back the man she really loved."_

"_Please dad," Frank's voice was pleading as he rocked back and forth, feeling both beaten down and angry simultaneously, "just please stop it…"_

"_She was probably thinking of him every single time she was with you-"_

Frank's eyes rose to stare at the woman across from him and she swallowed hard as the gentleness and vulnerability behind them moments earlier were now replaced with a hard and menacing look. He felt an overwhelming sense of anger course through his veins, and all before his eyes seemed to be tinted in red; "I seem to have that problem in picking women don't I Carla?" he spat rather viciously as he slowly began to crawl along the bench towards her, "falling in love with women who are in love with someone else," he crawled closer to her, watching as her eyes widened in fear and her body begin to tremble, "using me to make their boyfriend's jealous-" his voice began to shake with rage.

"Frank…" she whispered as she pressed her back further into the wall behind her. She gasped in terror as he pulled at her ankles so her legs lay flat on the bench, and he began to crawl over them, effectively trapping her beneath him.

His lips curled into a snarl as he continued, "using their feminine charm to seduce me; cause me to fall in love with them; make me want to move heaven and earth to be with them-" he spat edging ever closer to her

"Frank you're scaring me," she whispered shakily as his face stopped mere inches from her own. She felt his hand lightly trail up her leg to her hip, pausing for a moment to tug gently at her pyjama bottoms, feeling her shudder beneath his touch, before continuing to trail his fingers up her arm and coming to rest on the side of her face.

"Do you want to know a secret Carla?" she couldn't respond and so she simply stared at him with wide eyes. He leaned in close to her ear and whispered huskily, "I scare myself sometimes." He felt her tremble beneath him and leaned in, his lips hovering dangerously over hers, "but I'm in complete control of my emotions now sweetheart," he stated, his voice heavy with lust, "and I think it's about time that you beg my forgiveness for using me all those months ago." He brushed her lips with his before whispering again, "I can think of a few ways you can make it up to me…" his lips descended heavily onto hers, causing her to squeal in shock as one hand reached up and vigorously pulled off her robe while the other gripped locks of her hair painfully between his fingers, holding her head steady against his forceful mouth.


	18. Chapter 18

_**A/N: Thank you all again for the wonderful response to this story. We're almost at 100 reviews...and I am well and truly humbled by your gracious comments! **_

_** I hope to start another few fics during the Carter break; maybe a Carla/Liam pairing, a Carla/Peter pairing, and I will be continuing with 'Wishing I Had Never Left', as well as completing this one...yes it will end soon!**_

_**but not yet, so fear not. ;)  
**_

_**Enjoy the latest installment, and as always reviews are kindly appreciated! :)**_

* * *

"Trust me," Gary insisted to Peter and Ciaran as they stood on the balcony on the hotel room, glancing over to where Fitzgerald sat bound to a chair, being interrogated by Dennis and Marcus, "this is the only way we're going to find her. He's not going to cooperate with us willingly." He said, gesturing to their captive with his thumb.

Peter let out a frustrated grunt, "and what if you're wrong?" he stated angrily, "what if we let him go and he does a runner instead?"

"He won't." Gary pressed, "he's too far in this now. His reputation, his job, all of it is on the line. He will lead us directly to her."

They had been pressing Fitzgerald for information for hours and to no avail. Donald kept his mouth shut, refusing to acknowledge any dealings with Frank Foster, and playing dumb about Carla's whereabouts. They had all begun to lose patience, but knew they had to maintain their cool heads if they had any hope of finding the brunette.

"So what are you suggesting?" Ciaran asked, his arms folded across his chest, trying to remain calm for his best friend's sanity.

"We need to get Malone here, now." Gary responded, "and we need her to play ball with us…"

* * *

He pulled her down on the bench so she was laying flat on her back beneath him; his hands began to roughly roam her body, desperately pulling at her clothes. He used his knee to pry her legs apart, and his heart leapt in his chest when he felt her stiffen beneath him; after what Malone had told him about Carla's suicide attempt, he had vowed to himself that he wouldn't force himself on her again. But as he spoke of Emma, his father's words began to play endlessly in his mind; viciously berating his masculinity; tearing him down piece by piece. When he looked up and saw Carla's beautiful face staring back at him so intently, he suddenly wanted nothing more than to be inside her again, whether she was consenting or not; needing to prove to the voice in his head that he was a 'man'. He needed to make her understand how much he needed her, wanted her, was obsessed with her; and in a small way, he also needed to punish her for not feeling the same way about him.

He assumed she would fight the entire time and was prepared for it, knowing he could easily overpower her when needed. But instead the unexpected happened: she began to feverishly return his kisses, grabbing at his head and pulling it closer to hers as her lips danced hungrily with his.

"I'm sorry," she whispered huskily between kisses, her face wet with tears, "I'm so sorry."

He couldn't make out if it was a trap or not, but in that moment he didn't care; he was too consumed with lust, and the possibility of her _wanting _him was far too arousing for him to think rationally. He reached his arms up and under her shoulders, pressing his body as close to hers as possible; he felt her hand trail down to his trousers, her fingers skillfully stroking the bulge that was pulsating against his pyjamas, causing him to groan in ecstasy as he laid kisses down her neck. His tongue trailed along her collarbone, hearing her gasp in response and he hungrily claimed her lips again. He felt her raise her legs so her knees were bent on either side of him; her thighs gently squeezing his hips and he instinctively began to grind against her, inciting a delicious moan from the back of her throat…

But as quick as a flash, he found himself hurtling through the air and landing painfully on his back on the cold hard floor beside the bench; his head connected sickeningly with the tiles and he let out a hiss of pain in response. As he fought to shake off the fuzziness clouding his vision, he felt a weight upon his torso, and something cool and metallic pressing dangerously against his neck. He blinked multiple times, and the fog that seemed to surround him finally began to clear.

There she was, straddling him, the blade of a chef's knife pressing just below his chin. Her eyes were fierce and danced with a rage he had never seen before. Tears dripped down her face; her hair, all tousled and unkempt, clung to her wet cheeks; her lips, swollen from their bruising kisses, looking deliciously enticing, and yet they were trembling in a vain effort to contain her emotions. His eyes continued to scan the rest of her lustfully. Her clothes were ripped; one of the straps of her tank top lay dangling in front of her chest, pulling the material downwards and exposing enough flesh of her breast to cause him to lick his lips in desire. The robe she wore had been viciously torn under his rough hands, and it hung in pieces on her elbows.

He glanced down to the knife, noticing how the hand holding it was eerily steady in spite of her trembling body; his eyes slowly traveled back up to meet hers.

"You are a woman of many talents, darling," he huskily stated, "where did you have that stashed?" he asked, a smug smile playing upon his lips.

"Cushion." She responded quickly. "I hid it there before I dozed off a few hours ago. Your moods are so night and day, I never know which Frank to expect coming 'round that corner." She nodded her head towards the kitchen's entrance.

He eyed her carefully, unsure of just what she was capable of if pushed to the brink, "so now that you have me, whatever are you planning on doing with me?" he asked her gently, almost seductively.

"Well that depends on you doesn't it?" She responded shakily. "We're going to wait until Dr. Jekyll returns and Mr. Hyde is safely relinquished back into his bottle; and then I'll let you up," she said blinking her eyes and raising her eyebrows. He made to sit up and she pressed the knife against his neck; he instinctively leaned his head back in reaction, attempting to avoid the sharpness of the blade on his skin. "But you mark my words Frank," she stated dangerously, "I _will_ use this to protect myself, so don't you get any ideas, understand?"

"You think you're capable of physically hurting someone Carla?" He asked her gingerly, "you could barely get through calling off our engagement without breaking down." He watched as her bottom lip began to quiver, "do you really think you could deliver a fatal blow?" He whispered, slowly reaching for the knife.

She swallowed hard as she watched him slowly raise his hand towards hers. She leaned in closer to him, her grip on the knife's handle tightening, "I picked up a gun," she whispered to him, "and I shot a man that I had once _loved,_ as he tried to murder me in a burning factory…" she pressed the blade to his skin, "Do you really want to test my resolve? _You_? A man who could never come close to obtaining those kinds of feelings from me?" she stated through gritted teeth, and she saw his jaw twitch. "Don't test me Frank," she warned him carefully, "I won't kill you, I'm not daft; I know that if I do, Fitzgerald will come after me; either directly or through the people I love," She leaned ever closer to him, her hair falling on either side of his face; her lips curled into a sneer, her eyes glinting with pent-up fury, and in spite of himself, he involuntarily recoiled in fear, "But make no mistake; you try to force yourself on me again and you'll be wearing your bits as a bobble hat." He swallowed hard; he knew her tough act was just a front, having admitted to that herself; but he also knew she was damaged, broken; and that he was the cause of it. She would do anything to not have what he did to her happen again, and he found himself, for the first time since he's known her, thoroughly believing that she was capable of what she was threatening. He began to relax beneath her, despite the fact that her sudden display of aggression made her incredibly sexy to him, and only increased his desire to have her again.

Feeling his body relax beneath her, she swallowed the lump forming in her throat and she sat upright, giving some slack to her hold on the knife. She began to berate herself for possibly angering him further with her act of defiance. She was trapped in this prison with him, willingly; and she knew couldn't keep a weapon on her every minute of every day. Her mind racing a mile a minute, she decided on a different approach; gripping the knife in front of her threateningly she began to slowly crawl off of him, "I made a promise," she stated shakily, leveling the knife in front of her as they both slowly pushed themselves to their feet, their eyes locked on the other's in a vicious battle of wills, "I made a promise that I would give myself to you willingly-" she whispered, her voice cracking with raw emotion, "-that I would stay here in exchange for Liam's safety and I am going to keep my promise." She could see his features softening as he gazed upon her, "but I am done being treated like a ragdoll by those around me," her voice was hoarse as she tossed the knife onto the counter, "I will not be punished for what Emma did to you, or for what your father brainwashed you into becoming;" she forced herself to move forward, her body trembling as she squared up to him; her eyes boring into his, "I will not be your punching bag anymore Frank." She whispered firmly before walking around him and out of the kitchen. He stood there rooted to the spot; all his anger now vanquished, and his heart breaking knowing what he almost did to her again after all she sacrificed.

He was shaken from his thoughts at the beeping from the coffee machine. Biting his lip, he walked to the counter and poured two cups of coffee. He could hear the door to their bedroom close upstairs as he poured milk into her mug. He rested his hands onto the counter, his head dropping as he closed his eyes and took a deep and shaky breath. He considered leaving her on her own for a while, and that's when he got an idea. He plucked her coffee cup in his hands and headed upstairs.

He gently pushed open the door to the bedroom, finding she had changed out of her pyjamas and into a jumper and trackpants. She turned to look at him as he approached her slowly. He gestured for her to sit on the sofa, and handed her the steaming mug.

"I know apologizing seems worthless right now," he started gingerly, "because I'm sure you won't believe me anyway-"

"Too right I won't-" she muttered under her breath

"-but I am _really_ sorry Carla…for everything I've done, and everything I keep doing to you." He whispered. He reached out and stroked her cheek and jawline with his fingers as she gazed up to him suspiciously. He cleared his throat, "I'm going to step out for a little bit, and when I get back I'd really like to have a proper chat. Maybe tonight we could even have a romantic dinner…start fresh?"

'_Start fresh?'_ she thought to herself, _'you're keeping me prisoner here, you sick bastard.'_ She closed her eyes, pleading with herself to not voice verbally what she had just been thinking.

"I purchased a number of dresses for you, all your size," he whispered almost pleadingly with her, "I'd love it if you would wear one tonight at dinner?" When she didn't respond he dropped to his knees in front of her, grasping her hands in his lovingly, "please Carla," he pleaded with her and she opened her eyes to look into his, "please let me prove to you that I'm not the monster you think I am…not the monster that I've been acting like."

She knew she had a choice: she could say no and continue to make her life in the house an absolute hell; or she could say yes and try to get through each day as painlessly as possible, holding out hope that she would be found sooner rather than later. Swallowing her pride, she nodded in agreement, and he leaned forward and kissed her forehead before standing up and getting changed himself. She turned away from him, leaning her back into the arm of the sofa and drawing her knees up in front of her. She stared out the window as she took a sip of her coffee, wondering if Peter would ever forgive her for giving in to Frank so easily…


	19. Chapter 19

_**A/N: Sorry for the delay on this story. It has taken a while to get back into this fic simply because of the recent Carla/Peter story line in Corrie. I was a little turned off the relationship for a bit, and it was only after watching an excellently made fan video that I remembered why I love this couple; Their relationship is a that of a classic soap couple: completely tumultuous, absolutely heartbreaking, but ultimately built on love. So I am back and re-inspired to continue writing and ultimately finish this fic. **_

_**Thank you to those who continue to follow this story and for all the amazing comments thus far.**_

_**Reviews are always immensely appreciated. I hope you enjoy the latest installment! :)**_

* * *

The sun had just begun to set when Carla descended the stairs and slowly entered the foyer, her heels making some noise against the hardwood floor, and alerting Frank to her presence.

"I'm in the kitchen sweetheart." Frank called out sweetly. She grumbled under her breath, and strode slowly towards him. He had his back to her, as he dished out the take away dinner he had purchased onto the china plates; a towel was thrown effortlessly over his shoulder and as per usual, he was dressed in a dress shirt and slacks. He turned to look over his shoulder and did a double take as he laid eyes on her. She wore a simple, short black dress, and had for the first time in days, applied a thin layer of makeup that simply accentuated her natural beauty. He turned so he was fully facing her, laying his right hand over his chest, feeling his heart flutter beneath his fingers.

"Carla," he breathed out lovingly, "you look gorgeous my dear." He removed the towel from his shoulder and walked towards her, his eyes scanning her body from top to bottom. He slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him, "absolutely breathtaking."

He laid a passionate kiss on her lips; feeling slightly aroused when she reluctantly responded to him. She pulled back and kept her eyes down as he ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek. "Turn around." He ordered her gently, and her eyes met his, her eyebrow raising quizzically. "Please?" he pleaded in a soft whisper. She grudgingly obliged, turning slowly and unable to stop the tremble of apprehension that overcame her as she did so. She felt him gather her hair and sweep it to one side, as something cool touched her neck; she glanced down to see the necklace he had purchased for her birthday laying gently beneath her collar bone as he hooked the clasp closed behind her neck. She instinctively raised her hand to the yellow diamond, allowing it to roll between her fingers as she felt him wrap his arms around her waist and rest his chin on her shoulder.

"Its beauty doesn't compare to you my dear," he whispered into her ear, his breath hot on her cheek. She gently pulled away from his embrace, feeling lightheaded quite suddenly. Behind her, Frank's eyes darkened as she distanced herself from him, but he shook his head to calm himself down; not wanting his temper to spoil the night's festivities.

"Why don't you head into the dining room darling," he prodded her, laying his hand on the small of her back and gently pushing her in the room's direction, "and I'll bring in our dinner." He leaned in and laid a gentle kiss on her cheek before going back to the kitchen counter to collect their dinner plates.

The dining room was alit with candles and the table decorated with vases of fresh flowers; but in that moment, Carla couldn't appreciate it if she tried as another bout of dizzyness overtook her. She raised a shaky hand to her head, her whole body was convulsing in shakes and she could only deduce that it was a combination of sleep deprivation and malnutrition. It didn't help that she had been dreading this evening since Frank talked her into it earlier that morning. She knew that what would follow dinner would be an impromptu retreat to the bedroom, and she couldn't bring herself to imagine what would happen there. She shuddered as the thoughts crossed her exhausted mind and she moved to sit down at the table.

Before she could process what was happening, she felt the room spin rapidly about her, her face drained of colour and she reached her hand out to grip the table to steady herself.

"Alright, I hope you brought your appetite my dear, because you are in for a treat." She heard Frank's voice state from behind her and his words echoed repeatedly as they bounced off her eardrums. She squeezed her eyes shut as she attempted to stop the incessant spinning. She could hear Frank calling her name, sounding as though he were miles away, but couldn't bring herself to respond. She could feel sweat begin to form a thin sheet upon her skin; and her dress clung uncomfortably to her shaking body. She reached out her hand to grip the chair she knew was in front of her, but before she could reach it, her legs gave way beneath her; folding as if they were made of jelly.

She felt two arms ensnare her, gripping her around her back and waist and preventing her from colliding onto the floor beneath her; her head rolled back and she felt a hand gently cup the back of her neck, slowly bringing her head back to an upright position; her eyes blinked open in time to see Frank readjust his grip and scoop her up into his arms, cradling her close to his body, and she rested her head against his shoulder before darkness overtook her senses.

* * *

Malone pursed her lips as she watched the officers' file out of the Salford hotel, each one leading out a cuffed assailant. She shook her head disappointedly at one of the men as he approached her.

"You've signed her death certificate, Malone." Peter ground out, struggling in his restraints as the officer next to him gripped him around the shoulders, further limiting his movements, "If anything happens to her, her blood will be on your hands!" He shouted furiously

"I warned you about taking the law into your own hands before Mr. Barlow," Malone responded firmly, cocking her head to one side and narrowing her eyes at the bookie. "And now you've stubbornly gone and taken it that one step further; illegally holding a badge-carrying officer at gunpoint?"

"It was a citizen's arrest and you know it!" Gary stated angrily as he passed by her.

"Don't get me started on you Mr. Windass: using her majesty's army to obtain firearms? You'll be in enough trouble when your commanding officers have been informed." Malone spat, before her eyes fell upon the two men trailing him, "as will yours, gentlemen," she smirked at a livid looking Dennis and Marcus, "I know the U.S. army will be incredibly interested to hear what two of their highly trained officers have been using their specialized skills for."

"You're making a huge mistake," Dennis snapped, squirming in his cuffs, and gesturing to Fitzgerald, who was sitting on the ground next to Malone's feet, "this jackass is involved in Carla Connor's disappearance and you are just letting him walk!"

"You have no proof of anyone's involvement, and to accuse and threaten an officer of the law is an _offence_." She ground out the last word maliciously. She looked towards the last man being led out, "Nothing to add Mr. McCarthy?"

"You're not worth me wasting my breath, love." Ciaran sneered at her, "You're a sorry excuse for an officer."

Malone shook her head dismissively before looking over her shoulder, "Take them back to Weatherfield and book them, I'll head back with Fitzgerald," she ordered one of the officers, who nodded curtly and shut the door to the van that now housed Peter, Ciaran, Gary, Dennis and Marcus.

"Honestly m'am I'd feel better if I could just go home on my own." Donald spoke up gingerly.

"I don't think so Fitzgerald," Malone said curtly, "You need to be checked over and then questioned when deemed appropriate."

Fitzgerald looked up to the sky briefly before looking back to Malone, "By the time we get back to the station it'll be getting dark; then I'll be sitting in the hospital for hours, and you know that the interrogation will inevitably be delayed until tomorrow morning." He sighed dramatically and rubbed his forehead, "look, I've been interrogated by these psychos for the past 18 hours, I just want to be on me own before I start smashing things. I promise I'll report to the station at first light." He pleaded with her.

Malone pursed her lips, "Alright, I'll let it slide this time. But before I go I have just one question:" she crouched down to his level, "why do they think you're involved in Ms Connor's disappearance?"

Fitzgerald sighed and began his well-rehearsed response, "It's because I was at her flat the night she was taken." He began, "they reckon I should have seen something based on the time I was there; and since I didn't they think I'm somehow involved." He pressed a hand against his temple, "amateurs."

Malone narrowed her eyes at him, "anything else?"

"Not that I'm aware of." He grumbled and she nodded slowly,

"Okay. You get home safely and I will see you first thing in the morning, understood?"

"Yes ma'am." He responded.

She nodded her head and threw a look over her shoulder, "Graydon? Hold the van, I'm coming with you." She patted Donald's shoulder before getting up and walking towards the holding van; she opened the doors and jumped into the back, "gentleman." She nodded curtly to the apprehended men as they glowered at her.

Fitzgerald pushed himself off the ground and walked towards his unmarked car. Within a few minutes he started the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot.

Malone peered through the window at the back of the van, watching as Donald's car pulled out of the car park, before turning and facing the men surrounding her.

"Sorry for the formalities," she began as she pulled out a key and reached across to unlock Ciaran's cuffs, "and for the delay in us arriving. After your call, I got round to informing the others at the precinct, but I also assumed it would be best to follow through with this plan with the cover of darkness on our side. We don't want to be following him in broad daylight and have it mess with our chances; with any luck right now he'll be heading straight to wherever Mr. Foster is holding Ms Connor."

"No apologies necessary," Gary responded, his trademark cheeky grin spreading across his features as his cuffs were unlocked next, "as long as this works and we catch him out, that's all we care about. Hopefully we wore him down enough lads, with the interrogation, so that he's not thinking clearly and starts making basic mistakes."

"And you're more than sure Foster's holding her in Whitby?" Marcus spoke up

"On a hunch." Malone responded, "That's where I met him when I questioned him about her disappearance."

"Let's hope you're right," Peter spoke up angrily, "and don't presume that this changes how I feel about you," he gritted out as he leaned in towards her, "you knew where Foster was holed up all this time and you never said a damn thing."

"And it's best that I didn't seeing as how Fitzgerald is involved," Malone responded coolly, "had we found Ms Connor prior to finding out Foster's accomplice, Donald would have done anything to ensure she was silenced. At least this way we know she's still alive."

Malone's phone began to ring, and she pulled it out of her pocket, "let's just hope for Carla's sake, that _this_ plan works," she stated before opening her mobile, "DC Malone?"

"You were right Malone," Michelle stated eagerly into her phone, "he's not heading back towards Weatherfield."

"Good!" Malone stated, giving the men a thumbs up, "now track him but mind your distance. Remember he's a trained officer: he'll know if he's being followed." The door to the van opened and she hopped out, followed by the formerly "arrested" men. "We'll be following in an unmarked car momentarily."

"Will do." Michelle affirmed, "We'll keep you posted." She closed her mobile and turned to Kirk, "Wait another few minutes before we follow him Kirky. Don't want him getting suspicious."

"No problem Michelle," he said smiling at her, "I'm a wiz at covert operations; I've beaten all the editions of _Call of Duty_."

"Well if Carla has been transported to a war zone, than we 'ave nothing to worry about do we 'Chelle?" Maria smirked from her place in the back seat.

"Come on," Michelle said smiling, a new wave of determination overtaking her, "let's go get our girl back!"

* * *

Carla's eyes fluttered open, and she took in her surroundings; she was lying in the master bedroom on the plush bed. Frank was sitting next to her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders as he used his free hand to dab a wet washcloth along her forehead.

She blinked repeatedly until he slowly came into focus, and he smiled down upon her, "hey," he whispered to her, "you gave me a scare there Carla."

"What happened?" she asked groggily, raising a shaking hand to her forehead before attempting to sit up.

"Hey, hey, hey," Frank gently pushed her shoulders so she was laying back against the plush pillows, "stay down and rest. You fainted Carla;" he pursed his lips and exhaled deeply, "To be honest, I think this whole situation has taken more out of you then we both wanted to admit."

She didn't respond, but simply lowered her gaze to her hands; not wanting to give him the satisfaction of admitting he was right.

"So, change of plans." He stated as he stood up and walked to the corner of the bedroom, returning momentarily with a tray of food. "Dinner in bed." He stated happily.

"Frank, I-" she began, her voice hoarse and dry

"No arguments Carla. You've hardly eaten anything since you've been here and you've barely slept." Frank's voice was stern and she couldn't help the feeling of wanting to smack him. "Now you are going to eat something, and you are going to relax tonight. No arguments sweetheart." With that he placed the tray over her lap and moved to sit next to her on the bed.

She closed her eyes in obvious frustration; she knew he was right, and as much as she wanted to fight him, she didn't have the strength or the energy. If anything, by complying to his wishes and forcing herself to eat, she would stand a better chance of fending him off when he got into one of his unpredictable moods, as she had done earlier that morning with her slight caffeine kick.

Forcing out the breath she was holding, she accepted the glass of ginger ale Frank handed to her with a mumbled thank you, and twirled some pasta about her fork.

Frank watched her intently. Her feeble state was troubling to him and he had every intention of ensuring she was looked after properly from here on out. However, he thought as his eyes mentally undressed her as she ate, her weakness would also mean less chance of a battle when he would attempt his seduction of her in a few short hours. He licked his lips in anticipation.

He couldn't wait to have her again…


	20. Chapter 20

_**A/N: Thanking you all again for the wonderful reviews/comments. I apologize for the delay but hopefully this chapter was worth the wait.**_

_**Please note there are references to non-consensual sex in this installment. If that offends or makes you uncomfortable, please do not read any further.**_

_**As always reviews and comments are greatly appreciated.**_

* * *

"Why did you do it?" His voice was gentle and caring as he ran the backs of his fingers down her bare arm.

Carla's hand froze; her fingers gripping the forkful of pasta in front of her. She swallowed hard, fearful of what exactly he was referring to; "why did I do what?" she responded quietly, bringing the food to her mouth and gingerly biting it from the fork.

"Why did you try to top yourself last September?" Frank asked, his voice just above that of a whisper and filled with raw emotion.

'_He doesn't know about the note,'_ she thought and a wave of relief briefly washed over her as she slowly chewed the pasta in her mouth, before uneasiness once again set in and she contemplated how to answer his question. Her fork swirled around her plate, clustering the noodles in a tight ball around the twirling utensil, and she swallowed what she had been chewing, before daintily reaching for her glass.

"You know _why _Frank." Her voice was barely audible as she took a sip of ginger ale

"I have a general idea," he responded sifting closer to her in the bed, raising his hand and placing it gingerly on her wrist, halting her from eating further. He felt her begin to tremble under his touch, and he watched as she rubbed her lips together apprehensively. He brought up his free hand, gently sweeping the hair back over her shoulder, securely tucking some behind her ear before softly caressing her cheek. "Tell me," he pressed in a whisper, watching intently as she closed her eyes and bit the inside of her lip in a vain attempt to control her emotions. He shifted back slightly, cupping the side of her face closest to him with his hand; her jaw rested delicately in his palm as his fingers deftly applied small caressing circles on her scalp behind her ear, and his thumb gently stroked the velvety smooth skin of her cheek. "Please Carla," he pleaded, "please talk to me."

She turned her head towards him, opening her eyes and fixing him with a hard look. "Why should I? hmm?" her voice was low but had that biting edge to it that he loved so much. "It didn't help talking about it to people who care about me, you think it'll help talking to the man who _raped_ me?"

"You're stronger than that Carla," he whispered lovingly, as though ignoring what she had said, "you're not the kind of woman who just gives up," he continued, "that's not the woman I fell in love with."

"Yeah well that woman hadn't been raped by a man she foolishly trusted with her life," she snapped bitterly, pulling away from his caress and shifting the tray off of her, "a man who she thought loved her; a man who she loved even if she wasn't _in love_ with him." She swung her legs over the side of the bed and rose to her feet; despite the anger pulsing through her body, she felt the desperate need to put as much distance between them as possible. Frank had his brows furrowed, looking up at her with sympathetic eyes. For the first time in months, he looked like the Frank that she had become attracted to earlier last summer; the business partner who helped her through her turmoil over her mother's death without a second thought.

As she glared at him, she suddenly felt an overwhelming rush of emotions flow through her; from rage to fear to heartbreak. Her eyes began to brim with tears, and her body shook as she gritted her teeth, and jabbed her finger in his direction, "you took everything from me that night; you took my trust, my dignity, and whatever shred of self confidence I had left. And is if that weren't bad enough, when I was at my lowest point, you turned Leanne on me."

"Leanne?" he rose his eyebrow quizzically before remembering the visit to the prison. "Oh right." He mumbled and shook his head gently, his eyes downcast; "I was just trying to hurt Barlow. I wanted him to suffer. Suffer for being the one _you_ loved; to let him get just a taste of what it felt like to have his entire world thrown upside down." He sighed gently, "I just assumed that Leanne would rip into him."

"Well you assumed wrong. 'Cause it were _me_ she ripped in to." Carla's bottom lip quivered as she remembered the day she dragged herself to the Bookie's…the day she tried to kill herself…

"_You just love it don't you? Playing the victim?" Leanne's glare was hard and menacing, and though her eyes were blurred through tears, Carla could see the rage behind the once soft blue eyes of her former friend; "You don't want the truth to come out because everyone will see you for what you really are: a self-centered, pathetic, dangerous drunk."_

_Carla lowered her eyes to the floor, Leanne's words cutting through her chest and piercing her heart. _

"_And you know what people will say," the blonde continued maliciously, thoroughly enjoying every minute of making the woman before her suffer, "well if she lied about being behind the wheel of a car that almost killed somebody," Carla raised her eyes again to hers, realizing she hadn't even taken what she about to say into consideration before this, "what else would she lie about? Being raped?"_

"_Alright stop," Peter voiced in a whisper from beside Leanne._

"_Oh wondered when you were going to pipe up." Leanne stated sarcastically._

"_I just said that's enough, Leanne." Peter said more firmly._

"_I think I'll decide when it's enough." Leanne snapped back, before fixing her gaze on Carla again. "When I tell the truth about you, there won't be a single soul on this street that'll have anything to do with you, you're finished Carla." Leanne looked upon her with such disgust; she felt naked and exposed again and she lowered her eyes as she took in the younger woman's words, "do you know what? I've had enough of this. I don't want to look at you, I don't want to talk to you," she snorted derisively, "**you're a waste of skin**."_

_Carla nodded her agreement, now thoroughly defeated, having already believing this about herself. She turned and walked out of the bookies, resigning to herself that Frank had won._

"I'm sorry-" Frank began genuinely

"Don't!" she interrupted angrily as she jabbed her finger at him with more force, "Don't you dare try to act like it wasn't what you had planned all along, don't you dare! You knew what she were like; how she was just aching for an excuse to lay into me! You saw from experience how vicious her tongue can be; constantly bringing up the fact that all the men I loved ended up six feet under," her voice cracked as she stifled a sob, "for goodness sake she actually thought I'd had me own mum bumped off just to try to seduce her husband."

She was beginning to shake uncontrollably now, and Frank knew she hadn't regained a fraction of the strength that she needed following her collapse earlier. He knew she wouldn't last much longer on her feet before she would crumple to the ground again, and he slowly pushed himself up from the bed, as she continued to unleash her anger on him, "So if she thought I would do something that sadistic, you can just imagine what else she thought I would do...or lie about as the case so happens."

Frank took small slow steps towards her, noting that she was getting considerably weaker as the minutes passed, but she defiantly began to move slowly away from him. "You knew what you were doing when she visited you that day in prison," her body shook violently, the tears falling faster down her face, "you wanted to make me suffer; to _destroy_ me," her voice was hoarse and as he stepped ever closer to her, she took him by surprise and took a step towards him, "you ruined me," she whispered harshly through gritted teeth, "physically, emotionally, mentally..." she felt an overwhelming urge to lash out at him, "you _ruined _me," she stated again in a louder voice and her eyes danced with a burning fire, "YOU RUINED ME!" she screamed as she launched herself at him.

Frank was ready for the onslaught, quickly ensnaring her in a bear hug and she tried to push, twist and pull her way out of his grip upon realizing her plan had backfired. "Shhh" he whispered into her hair as he held her tighter to his body, "shhh sweetheart it's alright," he cooed and her struggle against him became weaker, almost meek. "I hate seeing you cry Carla," he whispered, "it breaks my heart to see you like this."

It was a half-truth and he knew it; as much as he hated being the _cause _for her current state, he couldn't deny how much he enjoyed seeing her weak at his hands. The formerly strong and fierce factory boss had made her fatal flaw last summer when she let her defenses down enough for him to see just how susceptible she really was underneath her tough exterior…and he relished that knowledge about her; knowing that he could grind her down to a vulnerable, helpless shell of the woman she was, and force her to rely solely on him. He ultimately wanted her to love him- yes; but after seeing her outburst just minutes earlier he knew it would _never _happen again, no matter how hard he tried; he had damaged her too much.

The knowledge of this broke his heart, and he began to feel that familiar urge to lash out at her. If he couldn't have her in love with him, then he would settle for her being entirely dependent on him, subjected to his every want and whim, to be in fear of him. He was becoming aroused with the thought of overpowering her, and he instinctively pushed his hips against her, forcing her to feel just how turned on she made him. His desire to ravish her suddenly consumed his senses; he wanted to – no, _needed_ to hear her beg as she writhed beneath him; beg with that deliciously soft voice that sent chills up his spine.

Her body trembled against him, her breathing was shallow and rapid and after a few more moments, he felt her legs crumple beneath her as her exhausted limbs finally gave out. He quickly scooped her up and laid her down on the bed.

She blinked her eyes rapidly as she tried to focus on what was happening around her and angrily cursed herself for being so foolish. She should have known she was too weak to have tried to start a fight with him, but he had infuriated her to the core. She watched as he picked the tray up off the bed and placed it on the table by the sofa. When he turned back to her he had begun to unbutton his shirt, and she recognized the hungry gaze he fixed on her; his eyes skillfully roaming her body as it lay helpless and weak on the plush duvet.

"No…" she whispered weakly, her eyes widening in fear. She tried desperately to push herself to a seated position, but her muscles just wouldn't respond. Her legs felt as heavy as lead, and for the life of her, she couldn't make them budge. Her body continued to tremble as a lustful grin graced his features and he came to stand next to her by the bed. She felt his finger run up her thigh and under her dress, before feeling his whole hand softly knead her inner thigh; his thumb flicked out and gently brushed the material of her knickers, and she stifled a gasp as memories of the nightmare she had the night before came flooding back.

He slowly climbed on top of her, his hands gliding effortlessly up her legs and he shuddered in delight at the feel of her silky skin beneath his fingers. He pushed the dress up and it bunched above her bra. He gently grasped her arms and lifted them over her head before pushing her dress up and off of her. He leaned over her, his knee nudging her legs apart as his hand began a soft caress down her body.

She was shaking beneath him; her body not responding to her desperate appeals to fight back. She was dizzy and fearful, wishing in that moment that darkness would simply consume her and remove her from what was about to happen. She tried to remain strong, vowing she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of begging him to stop, knowing it would simply be a waste of energy. His eyes were dark as they gazed down upon her, and she knew that he was beyond the point of being reached now. She felt completely powerless, and in that moment she lost all hope of ever being rescued.

This was to be her fate: being emotionally and mentally broken down while her body was violated at Frank's will. She could feel her breaking point being reached, and despite her best attempts to not give in, she dissolved into tears; softly whimpering as she cried beneath him.

_How did her life come to this?_

Her body was wrought with sobs as his hands began to remove her bra and underwear and she turned her head to the side as he leaned down to kiss her. He forcefully grabbed her chin and sharply turned her face back to his before crushing her lips with his. His hands began to roughly roam her naked body, and he kicked off his trousers before pushing her legs further apart with his knee.

Though she was completely overtaken with sobs, she forced her body to relax with what little control she had left of it; convincing herself that the pain would be less intense if she simply rode it out. She felt two of his fingers slip into her, and she closed her eyes in an effort to block out what was happening; his lips traveled along her body and his free hand interlaced his fingers with hers, effectively pinning her hand above her head. She felt darkness overtake her while he re-positioned himself between her legs, his grip on her hand remaining firm. He laid another bruising kiss on her lips as he thrust into her, causing her to whimper softly in pain.

Behind the darkness of her closed eyes, she could make out two figures beckoning to her, and she felt herself pulled towards them. Though they were cast in shadows, her heart fluttered as she recognized their outlines.

She forced her eyes open to find she was no longer on the bed beneath Frank; instead she was back in her flat, and she broke into a mad run towards the two men who had beckoned to her. She threw herself into the open arms of her husband Paul; her body overcome with emotion as she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Liam immediately stepped in behind her, pressing his chest into her back, his arms circling around both her and his brother as she burst into an uncontrollable crying fit. Paul's hand reached up and stroked her hair lovingly and Liam leaned his head against the side of hers, his chin resting on her shoulder.

"Shhh sweetheart," Liam cooed into her ear, "it's going to be alright; everything's gonna be alright, you'll see."

She sniffled into Paul's chest, reaching her arm back and grasping Liam's shoulder comfortingly at his words.

"We won't let you go until it's safe Car," Paul whispered, kissing the top of her head, "we promise you, it'll all be over soon, love."

She felt her knees buckle beneath her, and she sunk to the floor; the two men she loved more than anything in her life following suit. They sat huddled on the floor of her flat, Carla sandwiched between the two Connor brothers, feeling incredibly safe for the first time in months. She latched onto both of them as she cried, sinking comfortably into their warm embraces; not wanting to ever let them go again…


	21. Chapter 21

_**A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful and kind reviews, as well as the favs and follows. I truly hope you enjoy this next installment and that it keeps you hanging on the edge of your seat.**_

_**As always reviews and comments are greatly appreciated: they are great motivation! :)**_

* * *

Fitzgerald gripped the steering wheel; his eyes locked on the dark road ahead, as they had been for the past hour and a half. He knew the game was up; knew that once questioned by the police, Barlow and his friends would spill some vital information connecting him to Carla Connor's disappearance. He had managed to fool Malone thus far, but he knew she wasn't an idiot and would pick up on his involvement in record time. He had to get out to Whitby as quickly as possible, warn Foster, and either help him to move the woman and her nephew to another location before jumping the country, or, if push came to shove, dispose of them _all_.

He reached over and fumbled with the glove compartment, until it fell open with a click. He grabbed a candy bar from inside before snapping the compartment closed. Sitting upright again, his trained eye scanned his rearview mirror, and lingered on the patrol car several cars behind his own. There weren't many cars out, and as far as he had observed since he left the hotel in Salford, he hadn't been tailed. But the patrol car roamed mysteriously back several car lengths and to the left of the centre lane that Fitzgerald currently occupied. Curiosity overtook him and he glanced to his driver-side mirror, pursing his lips angrily as he picked up yet another patrol car behind the one he had already spotted, this one in his right-hand lane. He was definitely being tailed.

He furiously unwrapped the candy bar, and took a generous bite as his foot pressed onto the accelerator. The car picked up speed and he began to weave between lanes, his eyes constantly flicking to the rearview mirror. He gave a grunt of frustration as he noticed the two patrol cars pick up speed as well, and he angrily chewed the chocolatey mass in his mouth before taking another bite. He had to lose them before the turnoff to Whitby and he pressed the gas pedal down again, hoping to weave and dodge his way through the lanes far enough ahead to make his escape. He didn't notice his angry grip on the candy wrapper, and the remainder of the chocolate bar popped out of its protective packaging and onto the seat next to him.

Silently cursing, he leaned over to pick it up off the cushion, his eyes still on the road ahead as his hand stretched to grasp the wayward piece of candy. Taking his eyes off the road for the briefest of moments he finally locked his fingers around the piece of chocolate and sat back up triumphantly with it.

That's when he saw it; a large mass just ahead of his vehicle, its four legs firmly rooted to the spot, its eyes wide and fearful as the bright headlights locked upon them. Cursing loudly, common sense flew out the window and he slammed on his brakes, swerving his car, into the lane beside him…

* * *

He didn't notice that she had succumbed to oblivion as he enforced his dominance over her again; he had been far too consumed with his own pleasure and gratification to recognize the signs. Her cries had quieted to a deafening silence; her fingers, interlaced with his as he pinned her hand above her head, wilted open against the plush pillow; and her tense and trembling thighs had relaxed considerably as he gripped one with his free hand and hoisted it roughly into a position that allowed him deeper access. As he continued to thrust into her repeatedly, edging himself closer to a climactic state, he assumed that her limp and unresponsive body was simply the result of the exhaustion that had plagued her earlier; that it was the same combination of fatigue and weakness that had made her unable to lift a finger in defense against him.

When he finally came down from his euphoria and dipped his head down for a kiss, he felt his heart stop for a brief moment as he took in the almost lifeless form of the woman he loved beneath him. Panic overtook him as he had pressed two fingers to her neck, desperately searching for a pulse. Upon feeling the faint but steady beat beneath her soft skin, he exhaled the breath he had been holding and rolled off of her, gently pulling her unconscious body towards him and covering her nakedness with a sheet.

He breathed out a satisfied sigh of contentment as he squeezed her body close to his. Her cheek was damp as it pressed against his chest, reminding him of the moment when she had burst into tears as he forced himself upon her. Her pitiful sobs and whimpers had brought him back to when she had locked herself in the bathroom on her first day in the house, and it had nearly halted his actions as he kneeled above her, slowly removing her bra and knickers.

Her cries had been those of utter despair; cries she did not even emit the first time he attacked her in her flat. His heart began to break at the sound and the sight of her in anguish as she lay beneath him, her body too weak to offer any form of resistance. But his anger quickly quashed any sympathy that had arisen within him. His mind forcibly egged him on, reminding him that it was _her_ fault that they were in this position at all; it was _her_ fault that they were in a place in their relationship where he _had_ to hold her captive, blackmail her into loving him and into giving him the family he so desperately wanted with her.

He raised his arm and gently pushed the damp hair away from her other wet cheek before cupping her head protectively in his hand; his fingers settled into her tangled hair while his other arm rested around the small of her back and waist, keeping her warm but trembling body close. He looked down admiringly upon her face; her mascara had run through her tears; black and grey smudges now stained her perfect cheeks. Her lips, swollen and pink from his bruising kisses, were slightly parted and her warm breath gently tickled his skin. He carefully observed her for the next few moments, listening to her breathing and feeling the meek rise and fall of her chest against his ribs. Though it was shallow and rapid, her breathing was steady and he resigned to himself that she was all right, despite her lack of consciousness. With a smile of contentment, Frank inhaled a slow, deliberate breath, breathing in her scent in exhilaration before exhaling and closing his eyes, resting his cheek upon her head and allowing himself to fall into a light sleep.

* * *

"What is he doing?" Maria asked from the backseat of the rental car, leaning her arms on the two captain seats as they watched Fitzgerald's car begin to pick up speed on the almost deserted highway.

"Do you think he's spotted us?" Michelle asked

"Don't think so," Kirk responded, "Unless he has something that can see our faces. I mean, I'm keeping back about three car lengths and not changing lanes when he does."

Maria turned and looked over her shoulder out the back window, "I don't think it's us that he's spotted." she sighed despondently, "look."

Michelle turned and looked out towards the back of the car, spotting a police patrol car to their right, "Oh great! Now they're speeding up an' all!" she stated exasperated, "talk about making it obvious. Where did they get their training from?" She shook her head in frustration.

"There's another one," Kirk said gesturing to the left with his head. Michelle and Maria turned just in time to see another patrol car speed by them. "He's figured it out," he said slowly accelerating himself, "he's going even faster now!"

"If we lose him Kirk we'll never find Carla," Michelle pleaded with him, "can you speed up? Keep on him?"

"I can do, but we're taking a risk going this fast already," Kirk explained, "we won't be able to brake in time if an animal-"

"KIRK LOOK OUT!" Maria screamed from the backseat. The brake lights of the cars ahead of them shone a sudden blinding bright red; some dodging off to the side lanes and into ditches; and the gut-wrenching sound of screeching tires, and the unmistakable connection of fibreglass upon fiberglass, rang out above it all.

"OH NO-" Michelle's hands flew up to her mouth, her eyes widening in terror as Fitzgerald's car was seen careening through the air, rolling over and over on itself and into the brush off the highway. Kirk quickly shifted the car into neutral, applying gentle pressure to the brakes while pulling off onto the shoulder of the highway. The red brake lights of the cars up ahead now became one large blur; each car having smashed into the one in front of it; and in the far distance, a large animal in the shape of a deer galloped back towards the wild brush at the side of the laneway.

Maria, Michelle and Kirk sat in stunned silence; each unable to move a muscle, and all watching with unabated breath as the smoke rose from where Fitzgerald's car lay mangled off the darkened highway up ahead. It took them a few more minutes in silence before Michelle unclasped her belt buckle and flung open the passenger door. Her shoe caught in the mud at the side of the road and she momentarily lost her footing. With quick reflexes she latched herself onto the car door, further preventing her from falling face first onto the asphalt. She hauled herself back to an upright position and broke into a run towards Fitzgerald's car.

_'No, no, no don't be dead!'_ she prayed anxiously, tears stinging the corners of her eyes and her breath hitching in her throat. She could hear the pounding of feet behind her, and she assumed it was other bystanders, until she recognized the head of red hair as it flew past her, followed closely by a familiar faded leather jacket. She could hear her husband calling her name, but she couldn't turn around; she fell a short distance behind Peter and Gary, desperate to see if their only link to finding Carla had now been severed.

Ciaran fell into pace next to her, placing a comforting hand on her back as they continued to run along the highway.

Peter could feel the lactic acid burning in his legs as he neared closer to the smoking wreckage; his lungs ached and he mentally thrashed himself for his cigarette addiction. He was running on pure adrenaline; he simply had to know if Foster's accomplice was still alive. He could see Gary begin to slow down just ahead of him as they neared the crash site. They hopped down from the road and into the ditch, avoiding the stares of other bystanders as they surveyed the scene.

Gary threw a look over his shoulder towards the bookie, "do you smell gas?"

"Yeah," Peter breathed out in horror, "yeah I do!"

"We don't have much time, come on!" the redhead shouted back. Out of the corner of his eye Peter could see Dennis and Marcus fall into step with him as Gary quickly fell to his knees at the car's driver-side door. He quickly flopped onto his stomach to get a better look inside the now upside-down car.

"He's not in 'ere!" He shouted, raising his head and looking towards the approaching crowd. Peter, Dennis and Marcus exchanged a look, wondering how Fitzgerald managed to make it out of the mangled wreckage; Peter ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, and turned to fill in Michelle, Ciaran and Malone as they arrived at the scene.

Gary looked around for any thing that Donald may have left in the car; the smell of gas was now stronger than before, and he could see gas fumes trickling up inside the cabin . That was when the engaged cigarette lighter receptacle caught his eye. "Son of a bitch!" he growled angrily; he felt his heart pump furiously in his ears as he pushed himself up from the muddy ground, and ran back towards the crowd "GET BACK!" He screamed, "GET BACK!"

They all began to run away from the car as the cigarette lighter, now fully ignited, popped out of the receptacle.

Maria and Kirk stood at the side of the rental car; watching as the slew of coppers ran down the highway behind their friends. Kirk placed an arm around his sister's shoulder comfortingly. "Don't worry, sis," he said gently, "even if the worst happens, we'll still find Mrs. C."

"I know we will Kirky," Maria responded, "but we have a better chance of finding her sooner if he's still-" she was cut off by the explosion up ahead. The ground shook below them, the sound, as loud as a bomb echoed furiously around the clearing. A huge ball of fire rose up from where Fitzgerald's car lay in the ditch, and where Michelle, Peter, Ciaran, Dennis, Marcus and Gary had congregated just moments earlier. Its orange and yellow flames reflected into Maria's now wide and damp eyes. "NO!" she screamed as she tried to break into a run, but Kirk held her back, turning his now sobbing sister into a hug; praying that their friends were safe. And yet as he looked at the fire rising from the explosion, he wondered if anyone unlucky enough to have been so close to it, could have possibly survived…

* * *

He could feel her stirring in her unconscious state several hours later. Her body was now covered in a cold sweat and her skin almost fiery to the touch. Frank opened his eyes and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, feeling her feverish skin burn into his.

He cursed himself for not covering her body up sooner, and quickly got out of the bed and grabbed a pair of satin pyjamas from the bureau. He ripped the sheet off her naked frame, and quickly dressed her in her underwear before slipping the pyjamas over her trembling body. He then dressed himself and slid back into the bed beside her, pulling her body close to his again and covering her with the sheet and duvet. He ran his hands up and down her arms and her back, trying desperately to warm her up.

He heard her mutter softly against his chest, and her eyes fluttered open. She raised her head to look up at him; her eyes stared blankly at him, but he could see the emotion behind the beautiful green orbs; filled with unbounded love and hope.

She knew the man cradling her wasn't her Liam, but hope filled her heart as she thought of the impossible; "Paul?" she asked hoarsely, her throat almost constricting at the mere thought of her husband lying next to her once again, "Pauly is that you?"

Frank smiled softly at her and played upon her hallucination, "yes sweetheart," he cooed gently to her, bringing up his fingers and caressing her cheek, "I'm here."

Her eyes brimming with unbridled emotion, she burst into tears, "Paul don't leave me again," she begged him through sobs as she rested her head against his chest and gripped his body closer to hers, "please don't leave me alone with him again!"

"I won't my darling," Frank whispered as he kissed the top of her feverish head and smiled in sheer delight, "You're safe now, and I promise I won't let you out of my arms again."


	22. Chapter 22

_**A/N: Thank you all for the kind reviews and comments. Here is the latest installment, and to be honest I'm not sure how I feel about it. It may need a rewrite in the clear light of day. **_

_**It was originally a longer chapter but I cut out a huge chunk of it because it didn't flow properly...if anything I might tweak it and add it in again. **_

_**Sorry for the delay in posting...kept getting distracted while writing today **_

_**As always, reviews and comments are greatly appreciated. :)**_

* * *

She felt a searing pain course through her body and an incessant beeping echoing from beside her. Taking in a deep breath, the heavy smell of disinfectant wafted through her nostrils, causing her to expel several short coughs in response. She recognized the smell almost instantaneously, and panic began to fill her; she was in a hospital, of that she was sure.

She forced her eyes open; her mascara had clumped her eyelashes together, making it a much more difficult task than normal.

"She's waking up." She heard a familiar female voice shout and she blinked repeatedly to focus her blurred vision.

"'Chelle?" Maria called to her, grasping her hand in hers, "'Chelle can you 'ear me?"

Michelle rolled her head to the side where her sister-in-law sat; squeezing her eyes shut as a searing pain pulsed through her head. Taking a few deep steadying breaths, she blinked her eyes open again, and focused on Maria's concerned face.

"The explosion…" she breathed out weakly, as the memory of what happened flooded back to her.

"Yeah," Maria encouraged, "Fitzgerald knew the gas was leaking into the cabin after the crash, so he ignited the cigarette lighter before he slipped out of the car. You were all lucky Gary noticed it when he did or you'd all be-" she choked on a sob, unable to finish her sentence.

"The others?" Michelle asked, concern filling through her and she tried to sit up, only to be restrained by Maria.

"They're fine. Other than a few cuts and bruises, they are all alright." The hairdresser reassured her, as she furiously wiped the tears away from her cheeks.

"You hit your head on a rock when you were thrown from the explosion," Kirk's soft voice alerted Michelle that he was in the room, having not noticed prior, "that's why you're in here; you've been unconscious for the past four hours."

"Carla?" Michelle's voice was hoarse and a sob threatened to escape; tears welling in her eyes, "Have they found her?"

Maria and Kirk exchanged a sad look before shaking their head at her; "not yet love," Maria responded quietly, "but they're out there now trying to pick up on Fitzgerald's tracks."

Michelle rolled her head to the opposite side of the bed, and closed her eyes in frustration and sadness; praying that they hadn't lost their only lead to finding her best friend...

* * *

"_I'm the luckiest man in the world, do you know that?" His voice was soft, and his breath tickled against her hair as his fingers gently ran up and down her back._

"_Oh aye," she responded with a yawn as she stretched her tired limbs against his naked body, repositioning her head to a more comfortable one on his chest, "how's that?" she asked, wrapping her now nicely stretched arm around his torso._

"_Because I've just married the most amazing, sexy, gorgeous, funny, feisty woman in all of England." Paul whispered huskily pressing a kiss upon his newlywed wife's head, "and she also just so happens to be one of my best friends." He felt her smile against his chest, her arm instinctively hugging him closer to her._

"_So what you're saying is: there's most likely a more amazing, sexy, gorgeous, funny, feisty woman somewhere outside of England, but since you** think** you have one, who also conveniently happens to be a friend of yours, you'd rather settle for her than go traipsing off looking for the woman of your dreams?" She felt his arms relax around her as he let out a frustrated sigh, and she shifted her head so her chin now rested on his pec, just in time to see him roll his eyes at her, "Gee, I am flattered darling," she responded sarcastically._

"_After all these years, you still can't just take a compliment can you?" her husband scolded her lovingly_

"_Oh I can," Carla replied quickly, before bringing up her hand and poking his chin with her index finger, "but you see it's much more fun to make you squirm Paulywalnut; and you do make it so easy."_

"_Do I now?" His hands began to travel down her sides, and she bit her lip playfully, "I think you'll find my dear, that it is you that is the squirmer..." His fingers instantly began to tickle the skin above her hip bone, causing her to jolt away from him and onto her back, giggling and kicking her legs as he crouched next to her; her hands flew out to try to stop his assault but just as she would push his hands away, his fingers would find another sensitive spot to tickle._

"_No, stop…" she breathed out between fits of laughter, "Paul! Stop!"_

_He grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head, his fingers interlacing with hers as he leaned his body over hers, "Apologize and accept the compliment Miss Donovan!" _

"_I'll accept your pathetic attempt at a compliment when pigs fly," she whispered huskily, a seductive smile playing upon her lips, "and it's Mrs. Connor now, or have you forgotten already?"_

_Paul dropped his head so his lips hovered just over hers, "Oh I haven't forgotten," he stated in a low voice as he re-positioned himself over her, nudging himself between her legs, "but I will have no wife of mine not believing that she is only one I have eyes for. Do you honestly think I could ever want to look for another woman when I have a goddess like you?" He gazed down upon her, relishing in the soft blush that graced her cheeks, "Then again, perhaps I need to make you squirm another way? Perhaps you just need some convincing," his lips brushed softly against hers, feeling her breasts press against his chest as her breathing became heavy and shallow, "Maybe I just need to prove to you how amazing," he kissed her eyebrow, "sexy," he kissed her nose, "and gorgeous you really are…" he passionately captured her lips with his, keeping her hands pinned above her, before raising his head from hers to gaze into her lust-filled eyes._

"_What happened to funny and feisty then?" she breathed out, as she tried to steady her rising desire._

"_You've already know you have those qualities Carla," he pecked his way down her neck, "it only seems to be compliments about your looks that you can't seem to accept." He swirled his tongue along her collarbone, and smiled triumphantly at the moan that escaped the back of her throat, "now Mrs. Connor, we only have use of the honeymoon suite for another twenty-four hours. So shut that gob of yours woman, and let your husband make his case!" _

_She let out a throaty laugh and it was like music to his ears; he couldn't believe how lucky he was to call her his wife. She could have had her pick of any man in Manchester if not the world; for years he had worried that she would begin dating his younger brother whom was always referred to as the "looker" of the family. But Liam never made a move; never mentioning any kind of any romantic feelings towards Carla. Paul couldn't imagine anyone else ensnaring her, and so he took his chances and asked her out; shocked and thrilled when she agreed. And now here he was, the morning after his wedding; about to make love to the woman he loved with every fibre of his being for the second time in a span of hours. _

_She relished in his kisses, loving the way he made her feel as though she was the most beautiful woman in the world. His hands kept hers pinned against the plush pillows above her head, and her inability to touch him back only heightened her senses. Her back arched so her chest pressed into his, her hips grinding against his. He captured her lips with his again, his tongue stroking hers and she moaned at his administrations. He released one hand, his fingers setting her skin ablaze as it traveled down her body, gently pulling her leg up; her free hand came to rest on the back of his neck, her fingers twirling the short hair at his nape. Her other hand remained pinned above her lovingly, her fingers opening momentarily as she felt him slip inside her; she broke the kiss they were sharing to gasp in desire and he lay a slew of kisses around her jawline as she closed her eyes in ecstasy. Their lovemaking became more passionate, grabbing at each other with their free hand and pulling the other as close as possible._

"_Paul…" Carla moaned, her eyes remaining closed and her head rolling from side to side in sheer ecstasy, feeling her orgasm nearing ever closer. He began to thrust quicker, slipping his hand under the small of her back, and raising her hips slightly, allowing him a better angle to stimulate her bud more prominently. She gave a cry of desire; her thighs beginning to tremble as he thrust faster and deeper._

"_Yes, that's it Carla," he whispered, and her eyes shot open. _

_That wasn't Paul's voice. _

_Her eyes frantically looked down at the man who was nipping and suckling his way up her neck, and panic washed over her. He slowly raised his head to look into her eyes, and tears of fear and anguish began to fall down her face; she was no longer making love to her husband Paul._

"_I want to see you give in to me, sweetheart," Frank whispered, his grip on her pinned hand increasing as the hand under her back held her hips firmly in place beneath his; "I want to hear you, and feel you as you cum...as you become mine again."_

_She shook her head violently and tried to shove him away but he continued to push into her, nudging her ever closer to the edge. She turned her head away from him, catching a glimpse of her white wedding dress strewn across the chair. She choked on a sob, willing herself to awaken from this nightmare. But as he continued to thrust into her, her body began to involuntarily shudder, tightening around him as she lost herself to her euphoria; tears of torment and agony cascading down her face, as she cried out in ecstasy._

She let out a soft cry, and her eyes flew open.

She was no longer in the honeymoon suite she had shared with her husband Paul in the past, but appeared to be alone in the bed of the master bedroom in her prison in Whitby, and very much in the present. From her place on the bed, she quickly looked around the room with her eyes, finding it dark and deserted. She drew her knees up to her chest, her body shuddering with tremors. The pillow beneath her cheek became wet from her fresh tears; her muscles were so fatigued that she could barely move, and the pain between her legs was a throbbing one; a constant reminder of what occurred just hours earlier.

And yet the physical torture she was enduring was nothing compared to the sorrow she felt in her heart. It was bad enough Frank would continue to assault her physically, emotionally and mentally. But now he was invading her memories; rewriting history…altering her past.

She thought she could faintly hear the sound of raised voices downstairs, but could not make out whom they belonged to as she felt darkness overtaking her again; the dizziness began to make the bedroom spin about her. She pulled her legs tighter into her chest as her body quivered beneath the sheets, and her eyes slowly rolled back into her head as she slipped into unconsciousness once more…

Her fears were slowly becoming reality...

Soon she wouldn't remember _anything_ before Frank…

* * *

He stood outside the house, angrily rapping on the door. He bounced up and down in an attempt to stay warm as the cold air bit into his skin. He watched as the light in the main foyer flicked on, and waited with unabated breath as a male figure approached the front entrance and began clicking away at multiple locks. The door finally creaked open and Fitzgerald shot a smirk at the man who peered around the wooden door.

"Any more room at the inn Foster?"


	23. Chapter 23

_**A/N: Finally updated!**_

_**Thanks for all the reviews, favs and follows! I promise not to go so long between updates without fair warning again.**_

_**I'm hoping to update Wishing I Had Never Left, by tomorrow.**_

_**As always reviews and comments are so very much appreciated! :)  
**_

_**Hope you enjoy this latest installment. **_

_**Disclaimer: Violence ahead. Heads up...**_

* * *

Peter took a drag of his cigarette as he sat in the backseat of the car on the drive back to Whitby. He could hear Gary, Ciaran, Dennis and Marcus all running theories by one another of where Frank could possibly be holed up, but his mind was on other things; specifically on one memory…

_"How did he find me?" she asked him quietly. "If I pressed charges, how was he able to follow me to L.A.?"_

_Peter shook his head and continued to caress her cheek, "I don't know love. None of us do. The police insist that he does not have his passport; that it had been surrendered when he was released on bail."_

_Carla shook her head as she took in the information, "This isn't over." She stated knowingly. "He's going to come for me again. He won't rest until I belong to him."_

_"He can't Carla. He can't touch you again." He whispered reassuringly._

_"Can't he?" her head whipped around to face him, fire dancing behind her eyes. "Think about it: his passport was confiscated and he still managed to somehow get on a plane and follow me. He managed to lie to the doctors, to the hospital staff, to the condo owners; God he managed to spin a web of lies to me as well. He's obviously a good manipulator, and a pathological liar to boot. If you think he won't find his way back here, well...then you're naïve Peter."_

_"Hey," he grasped her shoulders gently in his hands and forced her to look at him, "Okay, it may be possible that he could find his way back on a plane; that he may find his way back here. But it's different this time. Everyone will be looking for him; and most importantly," he put two fingers under her chin, pulling her face gently to look him in the eyes, "he can't hurt you because I won't give him the opportunity. Carla love, I promise you I won't let him touch you again."_

He leaned his forehead against the cool window; she had been so scared that night. So terrified of being found once again by her tormentor – her rapist-, and he had tried to ease her suffering, tried to be her knight in shining armour, tried to make promises that he himself knew would be hard to follow through with, and she called him out on it. Peter sighed despondently, closing his eyes as the remainder of the memory washed over him…

_"Don't-" she whispered exasperated as she brought her hands up, effectively pushing his hands off of her, "-please just don't make promises you can't keep Peter." She turned her head away from him and looked at the wall, drawing her knees into her chest. Peter sighed as he observed her wrapping her arms about her legs and resting her chin on her knees. She looked so small, so fragile… so broken. His heart shattered. He reached out and pulled her towards him, hugging her to him as he lay back down on the bed. He cradled her head to his chest and rested his cheek on her head. He felt her leg entwine around his, as she allowed herself to relax in his arms._

_"Okay, then how about this," he whispered into her hair, "I promise you that in the long-term I will do whatever I can to __try__ to protect you from him. But I promise that for right now, I will just stay here all night and hold you close to me." He laid a gentle kiss on the top of her head. "How's that?"_

_"Better." she whispered as she snuggled closer to him._

_As they both began to drift off, Peter heard her soft voice, "Peter?"_

_"Yes love?"_

_"Could you do me a favour?"_

_"Anything."_

_There was a brief pause, "Call me sweetheart?" her voice cracked._

_His heart broke at the request. He closed his eyes as he felt the tears beginning to form. He leaned in close to her, squeezed her tightly to him and gently whispered, "Good night sweetheart." _

Peter angrily flicked his cigarette out the open window. Carla had been right; he'd been naive to think Frank wouldn't come after her again. No matter how hard he tried, Foster was always two steps ahead of him. He sighed deeply and leaned his head against the window in despair when his eye began to linger on the passing houses. His head snapped back to an upright position.

"A house." He whispered suddenly.

"Eh?" Ciaran asked him curiously.

Peter turned his head to look at his friend, realization dawning on him, "A house!" he repeated, "Foster won't be staying in any hotel or B&B…it's too risky!" A smile formed across his face as it all started to make sense in his mind, "think about it: when he followed Carla to L.A. he rented a condo remember? Locked the doors from the inside so she couldn't escape?" He shifted in his seat, leaning forward with a renewed sense of hope, "only this time he's had to think bigger; something more private than a condo…"

"Like a lakeside cottage or something." Marcus confirmed

"Barlow, you are a genius!" Gary piped in as it dawned on him as well, "and he must of paid with cash, and is probably using an alias; he wouldn't risk putting his name on anything."

"The flowers…" Dennis whispered, before pulling out his bag and rifling through papers

"Eh?" Gary asked, keeping his eyes on the road ahead of them but glancing to the passenger seat next to him.

"The _flowers_ Windass," Dennis stated happily, as he pulled out a wad of papers and began shuffling through them, "flowers ordered and delivered on Carla's birthday remember? I wrote down as many as I could find and separated them by town – A HA!" He exclaimed triumphantly holding a piece of paper up like it was a trophy, "Whitby! Pull over Windass, " Dennis ordered his friend, a huge smile forming on his face before turning around and offering Peter a reassuring smile, "we're getting closer now."

Peter bit his lip and smiled, feeling tears of joy fill his eyes. He felt Ciaran's hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze and shake.

"We're gonna bring her home mate," Ciaran stated.

"Yeah we will," Peter responded quietly, "and this time, I'm never letting her go."

They all jumped as Peter's phone rang loudly in his jacket pocket. He quickly pulled it out as the car came to a stop at the side of the road. A private number flashed across the screen and he raised an eyebrow as he opened his mobile, "Hello?"…

* * *

She heard the door to the bedroom open and close but kept her eyes firmly shut; hoping that her ruse of pretending to be asleep would grant her some extra time alone. She used whatever strength in her possible to quell her body from shaking, knowing it would be an instant giveaway to her consciousness. She heard footsteps pause at the side of the bed; she could hear deep breathing and the distinct sound of material rubbing against material. She heard the squeak of leather and a soft thump on the floor and assumed Frank was kicking off his slippers.

There was a dip in the mattress as he climbed onto the bed and shuffled close to her. She knew she was being watched, and it unnerved her to no end. She felt a finger slowly trace down the curve of her face, and as she continued to try to keep her breathing steady, she inhaled the scent of a strong musky fragrance …

'…_Something isn't right'_, she thought in horror, that wasn't Frank's cologne…

Her eyes flew open and she found herself staring into Fitzgerald's brown orbs; he was laying on his side, propped up on his elbow, his finger grazing along her face, and biting his lip as his eyes travelled her body lustfully. She instinctively tried to scamper away from him but he was on top of her in a flash, his body pinning hers beneath the sheets, and restraining her small wrists above her head in one of his large hands. She went to scream for help but he reacted quicker, pressing his palm over her mouth and quashing her futile attempt.

He clucked his tongue in mock disappointment, "Awww are you not happy to see me gorgeous?" He whispered as he continued to let his eyes roam over her trembling body, "I'm deeply offended. I would have thought after this past week with Foster that you'd be up for a little…upgrade?" he winked at her and her eyes grew wide and wet with tears as she began to struggle against him. "Shhh, shhh gorgeous," he cooed at her, "We don't want to be interrupted now do we? Frank is downstairs making breakfast…so we don't have very much time." He removed his hand from her mouth and replaced it with a bruising kiss, muffling her scream against his lips as his hand quickly pulled down the sheet that separated their bodies. She continued to wriggle under him and managed to get her knee free. With great force she quickly drove it into his groin and removed his lips from hers as he let out a yelp of pain. She bucked her hips and flung him sideways off of her and fought her way out of the sheets and off the bed.

Her weakened state caused her knees to buckle beneath her, but she quickly regained her footing and made to run around the bed. Donald was up quicker than she anticipated and she froze instantaneously as he stood shakily between her and the exit.

"Oh I'm going to enjoy making you scream for that you little bitch!" he spat, the lustful gaze still pinned on her.

She began to back away from him, not knowing where else to go, but with two strides he had closed the distance between them and grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking it back painfully and staring down at her face. He said nothing, simply flashing her an evil smile before driving his knee into her stomach. She crumpled to the ground beneath him, the wind knocked out of her lungs and an excruciating pain wracking her motionless. She was hunched over on her knees, coughing as she tried to inhale oxygen into her body and he grabbed the hair lining her forehead, pulling it back and up, forcing her to her feet. The pain on her face was suddenly replaced with a look of utter disgust as she looked up at him. Feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline course through her, a sneer of contempt formed across her features.

"Ooo the cat has claws eh?" Fitzgerald taunted, loving the resistance she was giving him, "no matter, I love a good fight," he whispered maliciously as he flung her back onto the bed, clambering on top of her before she could bounce back up.

She would go down fighting this time, she thought angrily as she tried to push him off of her, using whatever method she could think of to stop the inevitable from happening again.

She needed to get Frank's attention. She continued to push against Donald's chest and her eyes darted to the bedside table. As he attempted to restrain her hands again she used her new-found strength to whip her hand out to the side, knocking the lamp over and sending it crashing to the ground. The glass base shattered to pieces, but her triumphant look soon left her face as a stinging backhand snapped her head sideways.

"Carla?"She heard Frank's concerned voice call from downstairs.

She opened her mouth to respond but could only cough. Fitzgerald gently grasped her face and turned it so it was facing him before delivering another powerful backhand to her other cheek. Her face crashed into the pillow; her vision blurred and obstructed by small black dots. Her face, and her lungs were screaming in pain, and she could not shake the dizziness that befell her. Donald made use of her unresponsive state, pulling off her pyjama bottoms and ripping open the satin pyjama top, causing buttons to fly everywhere. He licked his lips and began nipping and suckling at her neck, his kisses edging lower, his hands roughly grabbing her breast and pinching the sensitive flesh.

Carla kept her eyes on the bedroom door, removing herself from Fitzgerald's attempted violation of her body; she could hear Frank's footsteps as they bounded up the stairs and she reluctantly willed for him to hurry, ignoring the nausea that befell her and noting the irony that she was praying to be rescued by her rapist. She heard Fitzgerald unzip his trousers and automatically stiffened beneath him when the door to the bedroom flung open, and she looked pleadingly at Frank for help.

Frank's eyes darkened as they took in the scene. He felt an uncontrollable surge of anger course through him and launched himself at Fitzgerald, pulling the man off of Carla and flinging him to the ground.

It took her a moment to regain her surroundings before she scrambled off the bed, grabbing her pyjama bottoms from the floor and bolting for the door. She heard Frank shouting after her but she did not respond, needing to get as far away from them both as possible. She ran down the stairs as quickly as she could, quickly stepping into the pyjamas and tying the material of her top together to cover her nakedness. She ran a shaky hand through her hair as she turned the corner to the kitchen; her eyes immediately falling on Fitzgerald's mobile on the counter. She could hear the commotion continuing upstairs and knew she had this one opportunity to call for help. She grabbed the mobile and instinctively dialed a number, praying for an answer.

_"Hello?" _

Her eyes welled at the sound of his voice.

"Pe-Peter?" her voice cracked as she broke into sobs.

Peter sat in shock for a few seconds, her broken voice sending chills up his spine. He snapped back to reality upon hearing her sob into the phone and put her on loudspeaker.

"Baby!" he said, his own voice cracking and laced with panic, "baby where are you? Are you alright?"

"I'm in Wh-Whitby. In an old house on Salazar Lane." she whispered, peering around the corner of the kitchen and watching the staircase for movement.

"Salazar Lane, let's go." Marcus ordered Gary as he pulled out his phone and searched for the map of the street.

"Okay baby, just hold on alright? We're almost in Whitby," Peter reassured her before hearing a voice distantly calling her name.

"Carla? Carla? Where are you?" Frank shouted from the upper level

She started to panic, "he's coming...I don't have much time! I'm going to put the phone down and leave it on," Carla whispered, "please hurry..." she pleaded before placing the phone down, hearing Peter's muffled voice assure her that he would, as Frank came barreling around the corner of the kitchen.

She pressed her back into the cabinets behind her, "stay away from me," she said shakily

"Did he hurt you? Are you okay?" Frank asked full of concern.

"Leave me alone," she whispered, "please leave me alone…"

"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry," Frank pleaded stepping closer to her and watching as her body shook in fear, "please darling, we've come so far don't fear me now."

She wouldn't move, not listening to him again, and his eyes darkened for a moment, but he shook his head to clear the anger coursing through him. He had to get her out of here before Fitzgerald came round.

"Carla-" he began but she stiffened, her eyes widening as she looked over his shoulder.

"BEHIND YOU!" she screamed, but her warning came too late as Donald whipped the handle of his gun into Frank's temple.

Carla watched in horror as Frank's eyes rolled back into his head and he crumbled to the ground in front of her. Tears coursing down her face, she choked on a sob and slowly lifted her eyes to the man before her.

"Just you and me now gorgeous," he stated, closing the distance between them and pressing her further into the cabinets behind her. He brought the gun up and ran it slowly, almost seductively from her temple to her jaw, loving the way her body convulsed into tremors and wrapped his other hand around her wrist, squeezing the tender flesh tightly and pressing it over her head, "Now then, where were we?..."


	24. Chapter 24

**_A/N:Thank you all for the reviews and comments on this story so far, and of course for the favs and follows. This chapter comes to you courtesy of TeamCarterxx and LoveeCarlaConnor who both voted that this be the next of my fics to be updated. :)_**

**_This chapter isn't as long as normal for this story; it was much longer when I originally wrote it, but my younger cousin found my USB stick and snapped it in half..._**

**_...Toddlers eh? They're cute until they start breaking your stuff...LOL_**

**_I re-wrote what I could from memory and hope that you all find it up to scratch._**

**_As always reviews and comments are greatly appreciated. :)_**

* * *

Peter handed Marcus his mobile, no longer able to stomach the sounds of the struggle he could hear coming from the house Carla was imprisoned in. He had heard her scream a warning to Frank, and heard a muffled male voice address her followed by the unmistakable mixed sounds of cabinets banging, and grunts of pain; he knew then he couldn't listen to anymore...

He clenched his fists as he leaned forward watching as Gary took the turnoff into Whitby. He hoped and prayed that they would arrive at the house before anymore harm came to Carla. He exhaled an angry breath and dropped his head into his hands; he wouldn't be able to control his rage if he found Fitzgerald forcing himself on her. It would be hard enough to not rip Foster limb from limb once he got his hands on him for all the torment he put her through.

But he knew deep down that as twisted and cruel as Frank was, that he would never kill Carla...the same, he feared, could not be said for Fitzgerald.

"Here, no, no no, _here_," Dennis ordered, pointing his finger to the left, "this is the turn."

"Is this Salazar Lane?" Ciaran asked, a tinge of hope hanging on his Irish accent.

"No but it's coming up," Dennis responded, before holding up a piece of paper, "and here is the number of the house...you know, on a hunch."

"Were flowers delivered to that house?" Peter asked him

"Yup, the only ones delivered to a house on Salazar Lane on January 3rd!" Dennis stated with a happy chuckle.

_'Hang on Carla,'_ Peter thought desperately as his fingers drummed anxiously on the captain seats, _'just please hang on a few more minutes baby...'_

* * *

She moved her head to the side, desperately trying to avoid his lips as they attempted to kiss hers. She squirmed against him as he pushed his hips against her torso, trying to pin her to the cabinets behind her. Tiring of her fidgeting, he gave a growl of frustration, tugged on the arm pinned above her head and pulled her body into his; he let of her wrist, opting instead for a fistful of her hair as he dragged her over to the bay window. She continued to struggle against him, attempting to wrench herself free from his bruising grip, and once again his aggravation rose to the surface as he launched a backhand to her face, the handle of the gun painfully crushing into her cheekbone. She let out a grunt of pain and he flung her onto the cushioned bench.

Her vision was blurred, and her head pounded in sheer agony, but Carla shakily raised her fingers to her stinging cheek, hissing as she made contact with the wound there. Her fingers became slick with a sticky substance and she gasped as she brought them up to eye-level; her green orbs widening in panic at the red blood that dripped from her nails to the palm of her hand. She slowly raised her eyes to Fitzgerald, who stood smirking down at her as he unbuckled his belt. He shifted the gun back into his dominant hand, and climbed on top of her, pressing the gun under the left side of her jaw. She froze in fear, and swallowed hard as he used his left hand to untie her pyjama top. He stroked the side of her face with the barrel of the gun, just as he had done mere moments after rendering Frank unconscious. He pressed his mouth onto her trembling lips and chuckled when he heard her whimper. Breaking the kiss, he leaned on his elbow so he was looking down at her, and slowly inched open her top, allowing his eyes to rake over her naked flesh, before looking back into her frightened eyes.

"Are you scared gorgeous?" He whispered, as he continued to caress her face with the gun.

She swallowed the lump that had risen to her throat and tried to fight back the tears that tingled the corners of her eyes, "yes…" she murmured under her shuddering breath.

He gave a snicker and raised a thumb to her cheeks to wipe away the tears that had descended down the side of her face, parallel to her earlobes, "that's good," he reassured her mockingly, "being scared gives the body a rush of adrenaline…not too much mind you, but just enough to make this a much more enjoyable torture," he smiled evilly, his thumb now pressing roughly into the wound on her cheek, as he viciously wiped the blood away, causing her to cry out in pain at his rough treatment, "enjoyable for me I mean." He laughed at her obvious distress and began to stroke the hot skin of her abdomen his lips beginning a wet and rough descent down from her neck.

She was trembling beneath him, and her mind raced as it tried to think of a way that she could distract him long enough for either Peter to find her, or for Frank to awaken. She shakily took a breath and addressed him, "Wh-why are you doing this?" her voice was barely audible and cracked as she tried to control her rising fear. He gave a throaty laugh and lifted his head from her chest to gaze upon her lustfully.

"Because this is the best way I can exact my revenge on Foster; I put my badge and career on the line helping him to ensnare you. I risked everything I had to help him because he helped me out long ago. But that little boyfriend of yours and your friends couldn't just let it go…they had to keep digging. And now, well now I'm going to lose my career and all because Foster fell in love with a woman who loved someone else and brought me down with him. So I'm going to get my revenge by taking the one thing that he loves and obsesses over, and making it mine."

His words sparked an anger deep within the pit of her stomach; she felt a sudden rush of adrenaline kick through her body, similar to the night she escaped Tony's clutches as the factory - _her _factory - burned to the ground; but she restrained herself from lashing out, knowing she'd only get one chance to fight him off, and that time wasn't quite there yet; "I'll never be yours you sick bastard, and I'll never be his."

"Oh Carla, Carla," he laughed at her and she clenched her jaw in defiance, "you think what he did to you was a horrible and traumatic experience?" the smile left his face and he gripped a fistful of her hair in his hand, roughly pulling it so her head snapped back, exposing her neck to him as she grunted in pain and stared at the wall behind her head, "you haven't experienced anything close to what I plan for you gorgeous; just remember that for all he did, at least Foster _loves_ you; he'd never beat you to within an inch of your life; but me? Well, I like my victims broken and cowering before me as I take their dignity. When I'm through with you, you're going to wish you never called off your wedding to Frankie-boy here…I'll have you begging me for mercy and even then I won't stop until I'm satisfied."

"You're a sick, demented, son-of-a-bitch," she growled out before groaning in pain as he tugged on her hair.

"You are in no position to be calling me names gorgeous." Donald spat viciously as he leaned in close to her ear, the barrel of the gun agonizingly pressing onto the cut in her cheek.

"Not going to make a difference no matter what I say though is it?" she ground out between clenched teeth, "you're still going to take what you want; what's the matter Fitzgerald? Can't deal with a little distraction? A little tongue-lashing from your victim?"

"Nice choice of words," he whispered seductively as he kissed her neck and bit the sensitive flesh under her jawbone, before looking back into her eyes, "You're a feisty little thing aren't you? Quite the spitfire. Oh yes...yes I'm going to enjoy breaking you." He tugged her hair again, and used his foot to begin pulling her pyjama bottoms down. As he suckled at her neck and collarbone he suddenly found himself hurtling through the air and crashing onto the ceramic tiled floor. Carla quickly launched herself off the bench and made a run for the door, she had barely made it to the living room when Fitzgerald hurtled his large, hard body into her much smaller frame and sent them both crashing onto the sofa.

She began to cough, and her ribs aching under her flesh. She was sure she had broken a few when he bodyslammed her onto the chaise couch. Using her winded state to his advantage, Donald quickly pried her legs apart, lifting her up and slamming her back down onto the cushions so she lay directly beneath him. She cried out as a fierce pain shot through her ribcage and gasped for breath. He placed the gun next to the chaise on the floor and began tugging at her pyjama bottoms, "my, my those hips of yours are quite powerful aren't they gorgeous?" he snickered maliciously as his fingers dug into her hipbones, "I can see why Foster is so obsessed with you; I can't wait to feel you bucking beneath me…"

He unzipped his trousers, noting as her eyes tried to maintain some sort of focus as her head rolled from side to side, and she coughed and wheezed as she tried desperately to collect air into her lungs. He smiled wickedly, placing a palm over her mouth to muffle the screams that would come next, and made to pull down her knickers when there was a loud banging at the front door. He turned his head in the direction and froze when he heard voices outside the house.

"CARLA?" Peter shouted desperately, "Carla are you in there?"

Carla's eyes went wide with hope and she screamed into Fitzgerald's palm, "shut up!" he growled at her, but she began to wriggle furiously beneath him, ignoring the pain coursing through her body.

She bit down on his hand and as he gave a yelp, removing his hand from her lips, she garnered as much energy as she could muster and screamed, "PETER! PETER I'M IN HERE!"

She could make out voices shouting outside as they tried to find something to break down the door with. But as she smiled in relief, Fitzgerald's fist came crashing into her temple; she gave a grunt of pain before everything went black.

Gary continued to launch his body into the door while Peter and Ciaran kicked at the hinges. They could feel the wood begin to crack with their administrations and it fueled them to become more vicious in their onslaught. With a loud snap the hinges gave way and the door flew open. The house was quiet and the three began to make their way into the foyer. A moan drew their attention, and Gary gripped the bat he had pulled from his car more tightly, before rounding the corner into the kitchen. Frank was sat up leaning against the counter, blood pouring from the gash on his temple. He looked to the three men and fixed his eyes on the bookie,

"Peter," he croaked, "Fitzgerald has her; go..." he breathed out, his head lolling around as he tried to stay conscious, "don't let him…please…"

"Where is he?" Peter snapped viciously wanting nothing more than to beat the man before him into a fine pulp, as Gary turned to check out the other rooms.

"I don't know…has a gun…knocked me unconscious…find her…need to find her…" Frank stuttered weakly and tried to push himself to his feet.

"Peter, Ciaran!" Gary called to them from the living room.

"Shit." Ciaran whispered as they came to stand next to the redhead in front of the chaise sofa that was stained with blood.

"What the hell has he done to her?" Peter whispered feeling tears sting his eyes.


	25. Chapter 25

_**A/N: Thanking you all again for the reviews and comments on this story thus far; as always, they keep me motivated to continue.**_

_**Here is the latest installment...please be wary of the M rating on this fic, for violence, sexual content, and mature subject matter. If this makes you uncomfortable, well, then you really shouldn't have been reading the last 24 chapters of this story...**_

_**As always, reviews are so very much appreciated! :)**_

* * *

The handcuffs dug into her already bruised flesh, as she pulled and twisted her wrists in a vain attempt to escape her confinements. Her screams were muffled under Fitzgerald's large hand as it pressed over her mouth; she tried desperately to focus on the sounds in the house and ignore the fact that he was having his wicked way with her on a bed in one of the many guestrooms. Her efforts only caused her more despair as the rushed footsteps sounded above her, carrying further and further away from where she was being violated beneath them.

"CARLA?"

_Peter…_

"CARLA? WHERE ARE YOU LOVE?"

She could hear him calling for her; the desperation in his voice, the panic.

She could make out Ciaran too, and Gary as they opened and slammed doors anxiously. Through her torment, she continued to cling to hope, even as she faintly heard Frank's weak voice calling for her to respond, as he too searched for her in the large home he had originally imprisoned her in.

Their voices, along with the optimism of being found, were drowned out by the sound of Fitzgerald's grunts of pleasure; his free hand viciously bruising her skin as it roughly roamed her body; with every purposeful thrust she felt the searing pain in her ribs, and her head throbbed in excruciating pain. Despite not wanting to give him the satisfaction of relishing in the torture he was putting her through, she could not stop the tears that cascaded down her cheeks in response to the sheer pain he was causing her. Her physical anguish mixed maliciously with the shadowing grief at knowing Peter was so close to finding her, and yet remained so far away. Her tears mingled with the blood that seeped from the fresh wounds at her temple and cheek, and she could feel the pillow beneath her face becoming damp and sticky. Try as she might, she could not remove herself, mind nor body, from the weight of Fitzgerald on top of her. She found herself staring into his eyes as he began to increase his speed and further her torture.

She wasn't even sure where in the house they were, remembering nothing after crying out for Peter on the chaise sofa in the living room; but she assumed by the sounds of the footsteps above, that they were somewhere on the main level. She had awoken from her unconscious state to a searing pain between her legs; her eyes had flung open and she had tried to scream only to find it muffled by Donald's mouth as it pressed bruisingly upon her lips. Panic overtook her as she tried to push him away, only to find her wrists constrained in handcuffs and linked through the headboard above her head. He eventually pressed his hand over her mouth to muffle any further screams and continued his vicious assault on her body; his eyes dancing with adrenaline and his lips forming an evil smile as he gazed down upon her.

He had warned her earlier that he would have her begging for mercy, but he underestimated her resolve. Despite everything that she had been through, she remained stubborn to the core. She would not beg him to stop; she would not beg him for his clemency. She knew he was getting some sort of sick pleasure out of knowing one of the many men looking for her in the house could burst into the room at any point. His gun lay on the pillow beside her, close enough for him to grab and use should they be disturbed.

She groaned her discomfort but stared defiantly up at him, clenching her jaw tightly through the pain as his face contorted pleasurably in the course of his climax. The tears continued to fall down her cheeks, and brief relief washed over her upon realizing it was finally over. After a few moments, he almost tenderly laid gentle kisses around her jawline, before pulling out of her harshly. Letting out a groan of pain, she immediately tried to curl her legs up to her chest. She was given little to no time to recover as he quickly pushed her knickers back on, before unlocking her handcuffs. Her hands immediately flew to her top, her fingers tying the fabric into a knot to deftly cover her nakedness, before she was hauled roughly up from the bed by her hair. She let out a whimper of pain as she tried to stand on her jelly-like legs. The pain coursing through her lower body was far worse than anything she had experienced before. She didn't think it was possible to feel more pain than she did back in September when Frank attacked her on the floor of her flat, but Fitzgerald's assault had proven otherwise.

She felt sick, nauseous, dizzy. Her knees buckled beneath her, but Donald's fingers continued to grasp the fistful of hair tautly, forcing her to remain standing upright and on her tiptoes. He ran his knuckles gently down the side of her face, and chuckled evilly as it caused her to whimper in both fear and confusion. Her eyes were out of focus as they stared wide-eyed at him, and he knew she was fighting desperately to not slip out of consciousness. He pulled her head up towards his, laying another agonizing kiss onto her lips before flinging her roughly into the corner of the room. Her body collided with the wall and she let out a scream of pain as her ribs came into contact with a small shelf. Her body slid down the wall and she drew her legs up as close to her chest as was comfortable.

Donald stood over her, smirking at the way she appeared so broken at his feet. He knew the sound of her body colliding with the wall would draw the others' attention and he fingered the gun anxiously in his hand, turning slightly to face the door as he heard the voices above call to each other. He could hear the hurried footsteps down the stairs, but the door swung open almost instantly and he smiled at the man before him.

"Nice of you to join us Foster," he greeted the shocked man, who simply stared wide-eyed at the woman huddled in the corner of the room, "And here comes the cavalry!" He laughed as Peter and Ciaran entered the room. "Ah ah ah!" he warned before any of them could approach him any closer. His gun was now pointing at Carla, whose head remained down, her forehead pressed upon her knees; her bloodied and bruised arms providing a protective shield around her matted hair.

"What did you do to her you son of a-" Peter growled, but froze as Donald pulled back the hammer of the gun in his hand.

Fitzgerald smiled and reached his free hand down to stroke Carla's hair possessively, "something that I will be doing a lot more of with her once I've disposed of you all."

The men watched as Carla's body shook violently under Fitzgerald's domineering touch, their eyes focusing on her bruised and battered body. Ciaran inched forward slightly, hearing the painful breaths the cowering woman was taking and spoke up carefully,

"You've broken her ribs," he stated calmly yet accusingly, "you have to get her some medical attention."

"I _have _to do nothing of the sort." Donald sneered, his fingers still stroking Carla's matted tresses, "She'll get all the help she requires once we've left this country."

"Why are you doing this?" Frank demanded, his eyes not lifting from Carla's body, "this wasn't part of the plan."

"Plans change Foster," Fitzgerald sneered, finally taking a step away from the woman in the corner, his gun now shifting and pointing to the men standing before him, "I risked everything for you to have her: my badge, my career…" his eyes flitted back to her trembling form before focusing on Frank's again, "and now that it's all gone to pieces, it's only fair that she now becomes _my_ prize." He smirked maliciously before speaking again, "amazing, isn't it gorgeous?" he sneered, his words now directed at Carla, "you are a modern day Helen of Troy my dear; three men in this room all vying to possess you, and yet only one shall succeed."

"Carla," Peter called to her quietly and desperately, "Carla love, please look at me." He pleaded; he needed to look into her eyes, needed to see that some hope remained behind them. She slowly lifted her head from her knees, ignoring the wave of dizziness that overtook her as she looked through her tear-filled orbs towards the man she loved.

"P-Peter," she stuttered, her voice hoarse, "I'm s-sorry,"

"Don't you apologize love," he stated shakily, his eyes now filling with tears as he tried to placate her, "this is not your fault; we're going to get you out of here."

"Is that right?" Fitzgerald sneered viciously, his gun shifting back and aiming directly at Carla's head.

"Leave her alone Donald," Frank stated angrily.

"Or what?" Donald taunted. "Do you really think she'll want to live if it means remaining in your hands Foster?" He smirked and chuckled tauntingly, "she doesn't love you, and she never will," he gestured towards Peter with a nod of his head, "she loves _him_. Always has, always will." He snickered as Frank's jaw tightened angrily, "how does that make you feel Foster? Knowing that after everything you've done; buying this house, trying to redeem yourself for your past behaviour, that it still isn't enough? That it will never be enough to make her love you? Knowing deep down that she despises you more now than she ever has? More than she has ever despised anyone-"

"…no…" Carla whispered shakily,

"What's that my dear?" Fitzgerald prodded her with a smile

Her eyes, wet with tears gazed up defiantly into his, "I despise_** you**_ more."

Donald simply chuckled in response, "ahhh but you see gorgeous, I don't need you to like me. Unlike Frankie-boy here, who wants nothing more than for you to love him back, I could care less how you feel about me. It won't stop me from having you over and over again darling. In fact it'll make things more interesting." He smiled evilly at her before looking between Peter and Frank, "and who knows how you'll feel once I've killed the two men who both have a hold on you," His gun pointed towards Frank, "the one who holds your mind," he shifted the gun to Peter, "and the one who holds your heart," he sneered mockingly.

"You sick bastard." Peter snarled.

"Sticks and stones Barlow." Fitzgerald taunted, his gun pointing back to Carla, "but I'd change your tone if I were you." He growled threateningly

"For God's sake, would you stop pointing that gun at her!" Frank shouted viciously

Fitzgerald's lips pursed and he pulled the trigger, setting off a loud crack as Frank and Peter shouted simultaneously.

The bullet imbedded in the wood just above Carla's head as she let out a strangled and frightened cry, her body sliding further down the wall and her arms flying up to protect her head.

"Consider that a warning." Donald growled, pulling back the hammer again with his thumb.

"What do you want?" Peter breathed out angrily, his eyes focusing on Carla's trembling body.

Fitzgerald moved to stand next to his victim, his knees cracking as he crouched down next to her, "I want my prize," he stated possessively, his hand caressing her hair before grabbing a fistful of it and pulling it back harshly, causing her to grunt in pain, "and I want her to watch as I kill you all." He pulled her close to him, wrapping his arm around her chest above her breasts as he hauled her painfully to a standing position. Her body screamed in protest, her legs remaining like jelly as she leaned against him for support. He rested his cheek against hers and pressed a kiss to the soft skin, snickering as her body continued to convulse in shakes. The tears continued to flow freely down her face, as she locked her eyes on Peter's.

"Now gorgeous, whom shall I kill first, hmmm?" Fitzgerald asked her, his gun poised between Frank and Peter, "should we get rid of the love of your life first? Hmmm? Fast and quick like a band aid?" Her eyes flooded with tears and she let out a choked sob, before the gun shifted to Ciaran, "or maybe we should start with the brother-in-law? You know, just to get things rolling?" he let out a snicker as he moved the gun to hover on Frank's chest, "or would it be more fitting to get rid of your tormentor with the first bullet?"

"Please…" she whispered shaking her head

"What is it gorgeous?" Fitzgerald queried, laying another kiss on her cheek, his eyes focusing on Peter.

"Pl-please just let them all go," she hoarsely choked out, "I'll-I'll go w-with you…wh-wherever you want," she sniffled through the tears that continued to fall like lava down her face, "b-but pl-please let them go."

"What? All of them?" Fitzgerald taunted her, "even Frank John Foster? The man who _raped _you?"

"Y-yes," she stuttered shakily, her legs buckling beneath her and he hoisted her back up to a standing position, causing a stabbing pain to course through her ribs and she let out a cry of pain, "pl-please just let them go."

"You are so self-sacrificing my dear," Donald whispered almost lovingly as he kissed her cheek again, "I see why you both love her so much; it's quite a turn on…" he pressed his groin against her, causing her to bite her lip and whimper in terror. "But come on now Carla, let's do this together shall we?" Fitzgerald's tone became patronizing and vicious again, as he placed the gun in the hand that remained locked about her chest, his free hand grabbing her bloodied wrist and holding it up, before thrusting the gun into her trembling hand, and steadying it with his own. "It's simple my dear, you just pull the trigger. I know you've done it before," he whispered maliciously in her ear before nipping at her lobe, "come on, I'll help you."

Carla shook her head, "no, no…" she whispered

"Just pick one Carla, it'll all be over soon." Fitzgerald continued to taunt her, his hand covering hers and pointing the gun at Peter. He could feel her strength as she tried to point the weapon away from the man she loved, and he smiled wickedly before pointing at Frank. The smile faded slightly upon her attempting to shift the gun away from him as well, "PICK ONE!" he shouted angrily into her ear, and she squeezed her eyes closed as his voice ricocheted off her eardrums, "Now Carla, or I'll do it for you!"

"No, please don't do this!" she begged him

"It's okay Carla," Frank's soft voice stated encouragingly, and she opened her eyes in shock. He had taken a step forward, "It's okay sweetheart," he whispered before looking at Fitzgerald, "kill me and let the others go. You can take the car, take the passport… just leave the country Donald before the cops catch on that you're here. Let Carla go…" his eyes locked lovingly on Carla's, "let her be with the man she loves."

"Don't be stupid Frank!" Peter stated nervously

"He won't let it go that easily and you know it." Ciaran pleaded with him

"I have to try," Frank replied and he smiled at Carla, "come on; kill me. Kill me and let her go home with Peter."

"How touching," Fitzgerald sneered before poising the gun at Frank's chest, "well, you heard the man gorgeous."

"No," Carla stuttered shaking her head furiously and trying to fight against Fitzgerald's strength as it leveled the gun at Frank, "N-No," she cried again, "No Frank…please!"

"Say goodnight Foster," Donald mocked, his finger pushing Carla's into the trigger

"I love you Carla," Frank's whispered words carried over to her and she let out a mortified cry as the gunshot cracked loudly through the guestroom…


	26. Chapter 26

_**A/N: Thank you for all the amazing reviews and comments, and for the favs and follows. **_

_**A brief disclaimer: **_

_**The subject matter touched upon in this story is a sensitive one; it was not brought up to sensationalize it, but to simply touch upon the fact that this particular act of violence against women still occurs today, and it does not discriminate its victims based on race, class, or by the country in which they live. **_

_**For those reading my other stories, you will notice that I write the character of Frank Foster a little differently in each one. In Wishing I Had Never Left, Frank is pretty one-dimensional: he's a controlling, manipulative and jealous person; one who feels entitled to have whatever he wants, whenever he wants. In this fic however, I tried to portray him as a little more layered; as a brainwashed and damaged man; one who was trained to take control when things did not go his way, because that is how his misogynist father raised him. **_

_**But I feel the need to be clear on my stance on this subject, in case it may have come across as jaded or slack in any way: despite this more redeeming characterization of Frank, it does not excuse or justify rape in any sense of the word;...no matter what anyone has been through in their life, no matter what they were taught, or how they were raised, NO means NO.**_

_**Okay...disclaimer over! **_

_**I'm not usually this preach-y...**_

_**Sorry... :(**_

_**I hope you all enjoy this next installment. **_

_**And as always, reviews and comments are greatly appreciated!**_

* * *

Déjà vu overtook her shaking body.

Though she had now fired a gun for the second time in her life, she was still no more used to the sensation than she had been back in June of 2010. Vibrations coursed up her right arm and chills ripped down her spine simultaneously as the bullet hurtled out of the barrel; Fitzgerald's unnerving and triumphant laugh echoed next to her ear, and Carla could do nothing but watch in horror as Frank's body fell back and crashed, as heavy as lead, onto the floor. Her eyes flooded with fresh tears as she struggled against her captor's grip around her chest. His hand remained over hers, holding the gun steadily in place despite her trembling, his finger still pressing against hers on the trigger.

Peter and Ciaran dropped next to Frank, easing his body over to check his vitals. As they did, Frank released a groan, his right hand flying up to his left shoulder and Carla let out a sob of relief; her struggle against Donald, and the gun he was forcing her to use, had managed to save the man's life. Even though Frank was the cause for her current predicament, she knew in her heart that she would never get over taking someone's life in cold blood; after all, she was still haunted by memories of shooting Tony, and _that_ had been in self-defense.

"Don't think you've accomplished anything sweetheart," Fitzgerald snarled viciously into her ear, his crushing hold around her chest tightening to an unbearable pressure and she let out a cry of agony, "Your fighting against me is only delaying the inevitable, and giving me more of a reason to punish you later on," he stated seductively pushing his groin into her for effect, "not that I need much encouragement, mind."

"Just stop this," she pleaded with him, her voice barely above a whisper, "just-just go now; I'll tell the coppers I shot him in self-defense. Please, you have my word that we won't say owt." She let out another agonizing cry as he pulled her back into his chest forcefully, the motion causing an excruciating stab of pain to pulsate through her body.

"I'm not going anywhere without you Carla," he whispered with a smile, "this is where it ends…"

His words sent a shiver up her spine…

'_We can both get out of here if we go now,' she had screamed, her voice hoarse from crying and thick with the smoke that filled the burning factory_

'_We're going nowhere!' Tony shouted angrily, his body blocking her only exit as he pointed to the floor beneath him, 'this is where it ends…'_

She shook her head in a vain attempt to come back to the present, "Okay, I'll-I'll go with you," she tried desperately, her voice quivering anxiously, "please just don't hurt them. Let them go; we can avoid being caught if we go now."

He kissed her cheek, a snicker escaping as she let out a despairing sob at his action, "soon gorgeous," he whispered into her ear before nipping at her lobe, "soon…" his thumb cocked back the hammer of the gun for the third time

"P-please…" she choked out, "please don't…"

Peter and Ciaran remained frozen on either side of Frank; all three men locking their gaze on the struggle before them.

"Shall we try for Frankie-boy again Carla?" Fitzgerald taunted, re-gripping the gun in his captive's hand to point at Frank's chest, but she began to struggle against him again, mustering up whatever strength she could to turn the gun away from the three men before her. "I'm beginning to tire of this my dear," he snapped, letting out an exasperated breath, and tugged her sharply as he attempted to shift her again.

This final aggressive movement was too much to bear on her battered body; with a groan escaping her lips, Carla's knees buckled beneath her and she slid unceremoniously out of Fitzgerald's grip, curling up into a heap on the floor. As he moved to grab her, another gunshot cracked through the room. She heard a grunt from behind her, and twisted her body, peeking up through her fingertips in time to see Fitzgerald collapse onto his knees on the floor beside her, blood seeping from a wound just above his right pectoral muscle. She forgot where she was for a moment, her thoughts revolving simply on getting as far away from Donald as possible. She immediately scampered from him, ignoring her agonizing muscles and ribs as they pulsed painfully against her flesh. She pushed furiously against the floor with her hands and feet before her back collided into something solid and she found herself hopelessly ensnared by two muscular arms.

'_You're going nowhere,' Tony's voice echoed viciously through her mind, as he dragged her kicking and screaming back towards him, 'no, don't fight me! don't fight me…' he pleaded, his arms wrapping her in a protective and almost loving embrace as the flames ignited higher around them, …_

She let out a terrified scream as her ex-husband's face appeared before her, and she was overcome with the smell of burning petrol, her lungs filling artificially with smoke. Panic set in and she began to fight against the two arms that wrapped protectively around her.

"It's okay sweetheart," Peter soothed her, as he held her tightly too him, "baby it's okay, it's me! You're safe now!" Upon hearing his voice, she came back to the present, her body turning into her lover's arms as she sobbed relentlessly. Through her tears she could see that Marcus had entered the room and was standing next to Ciaran, the gun in his hands holding steadily at Fitzgerald.

"Drop the gun!" His American accent carried across the room as he jabbed the gun in his hands pointedly at Donald. When Fitzgerald refused to comply, Marcus cocked back the hammer of his weapon, "I said **drop the gun**!" he tried again angrily as Gary and Dennis gingerly hoisted Frank up to a standing position.

Peter placed an arm under Carla's knees as he too rose to his feet, cradling her bruised and trembling body close to his.

As he watched Peter rise, his eyes focusing on the woman in his arms, Fitzgerald's lips curled slowly into a malicious smile, and he quickly raised the gun towards Carla and pulled the trigger.

Peter immediately turned his body, knowingly exposing his back to Donald in order to protect the woman he loved, and she gave a scream as two gunshots cracked loudly...

...The seconds passed as slow as hours; she had been sure Peter had been hit, sacrificing his life for hers, and she felt her heart split in two. She gradually opened her eyes, raising her head from Peter's neck as she felt him breathe a sigh of relief. Their eyes locked momentarily, both reveling in the fact that Fitzgerald had missed his intended target. A groan sounded behind Peter, and Carla threw a look over her shoulder, her stomach flipping when she saw Gary and Dennis, but not Frank.

"Put me down," she whispered anxiously and tried to wriggle free of Peter's grip, "Peter put me down!" she ordered more forcefully. He carefully placed her feet back on the ground, aiding her as she turned to look behind him. She threw her hand over her mouth and gagged upon seeing Fitzgerald's prone body sprawled on his back, blood pouring from the fresh bullet wound between his eyes. Her eyes shifted down and she let out a gasp upon seeing Frank's body slouched over on his side, blood seeping slowly away from his body.

She didn't know why she did it; even her brain was scolding her relentlessly. After all, this was the man who had forced himself upon her, not just once, but _several_ times since September. He was the man who kidnapped her _twice_, and blackmailed her into living his sick fantasy of a happily ever after by threatening the safety of her nephew…

And yet as she fell to her knees beside him, gently grasping his arm and turning him towards her, she, in that moment, saw him only as the man who had helped her overcome the trauma of her mother's death; the man who offered up his life to spare those who came to rescue her, and the man who had now saved both her and Peter's lives. Her eyes fixed on the blood staining his stomach, and she instinctively grasped one of his hands and placed it over the wound with her own to increase the pressure.

"No," he whispered hoarsely, a thin line of blood seeping out the corner of his mouth as he opened his eyes to look up into hers, "no Carla," he stated again with a shake of his head.

The sound of sirens blared in the distance, and she again didn't know why she willed them to hurry. She rubbed her lips together as his free hand rose up and cupped her cheek. She involuntarily flinched at the contact and he pursed his lips before nodding his understanding, his hand lowering again to his side. His eyes remained focused on hers as he spoke, "I'm sorry Carla," he said, a cough escaping his lips, "I'm sorry for everything I did; for everything I put you through…"

"Frank," her voice cracked through her tears, "just…just stop talking, alright?" her eyes glanced towards the window, the sirens edging ever closer, "help will be here any minute."

"I'm dying Carla," he choked out, tears brimming his eyes, "and I need to say this now or I'll never get the chance, okay?" She nodded her head in response, and he took a breath before continuing, "I never meant to hurt you…if you believe nothing else, believe that. I only ever wanted to love you…" his voice began to crack, and for the first time since his breakup with Emma, Frank Foster allowed himself to cry, "I loved you…I still do…" he coughed and another drizzle of blood seeped out the corner of his mouth, "I'm just a damaged man, Carla. And I'm not saying that to excuse my behaviour, or my actions. I just didn't know how else to react…I was raised to believe that I had to take what I wanted. I'm so sorry for everything Carla…I know I could never love you the way you should be loved," his eyes flitted towards Peter, who was now crouched down next to her, "he loves you the way you deserved to be loved: unconditionally."

Peter's hand came to rest on the small of Carla's back as the sirens on the police cars sounded and flashed in through the window. Frank coughed again before groaning in pain. He clutched at his stomach; his skin was now covered in a thin sheen of sweat and he began to shake involuntarily as his eyes rolled back into his head. Carla licked her lips and gingerly grasped his fingers in hers. He opened his eyes, and smiled softly as he gazed upon her. He tried again to cup her cheek, and let out a sigh of relief when she didn't flinch from his touch, "I…left…you…a…note," he forced out between heavy and shallow breaths, "on…mantle…" she nodded her understanding and he released her cheek, his hand crashing down onto the floor as it became too heavy for his weakening body to sustain. "Please…" he whispered, his eyes opening and closing rapidly, "just...i need…to know…" he coughed again.

"What?" she whispered gently, leaning closer to him as she squeezed his hand reassuringly, the sounds of the police rushing into the house not fazing her.

Frank gave another cough, tears brimming his eyes, "did you…" he began, "did you…ever…love…me?"

She felt tears flood her eyes. She debated lying to him in that moment; a simple white lie to make his passing an easier one. But she changed her mind almost immediately. She knew that telling the truth was the right thing to do. She rubbed her lips together, and smiled gently upon him, "yes," she whispered softly, "just-just not in the way you wanted me too."

He closed his eyes, smiling as he sighed before opening them again and gazing into hers, "thank you," he whispered before he exhaled a long and final breath, his eyes closing for a final time; his fingers becoming limp in hers.

She remained there for a long moment. She should have been relieved that her torment was now over for good. She should have been rejoicing in being in Peter's loving arms again…

But instead she felt sadness and an overwhelming sense of emptiness…

She raised a shaking hand to her forehead and began to sob uncontrollably. She fell into Peter's arms as he pulled her closer to him. She could hear the voices of the police as they rushed into the guestroom, but they sounded miles away to her.

"Shhh" Peter whispered gently while he rocked her soothingly, his own tears dripping onto her hair as he pressed his lips onto the top of her head, "it's okay baby; it's all over now…"

As she released her fingers from Frank's, she felt guilt coursing through her. None of this would have happened had she just run away with Liam...

She grabbed hold of Peter's collar and continued to cry against him.

He was right: it was all over.

...The problem was, she wasn't so sure she could move forward...


	27. Chapter 27

_**A/N: Thank you all for the kind reviews/comments both here and on twitter. I sincerely appreciate your feedback! :)**_

_**I have decided to continue with this story as long as is possible without it dragging on, due to the response received back via twitter about this story ending. The remainder of this story will focus on Carla's recovery, and I will of course throw in some twists and turns along the way.**_

_**Hope you enjoy this latest installment! **_

_**As always, your generous feedback is greatly welcomed! :) **_

* * *

A mirage of camera flashes filled the confined area as the forensics team continued to collect their evidence. Marcus sat in handcuffs, just outside the guest bedroom, being interrogated by a detective as to how and where he obtained the firearm that killed a badge-carrying officer. Both Frank and Donald's bodies had been covered with individual white sheets, and the bed linens and comforter that lay disheveled and askew on the mattress were being carefully scanned and bagged for evidence.

Peter stood leaning against the wall by the door, completely unfazed by the conversations, interrogations, and constant bleeping of the cameras and other gadgets that surrounded him. He nervously bit his thumb nail, watching as the paramedics performed a primary assessment on his girlfriend. The whole house was riddled with coppers. Outside, inside, upstairs; they were leaving no stone left unturned in this investigation, and though he was incredibly thankful for their due diligence, he could not seem to remove his eyes from Carla. She had been secured to a gurney and covered with multiple blankets to offset the possibility of her body succumbing to shock. She had removed the torn, damp and bloodstained satin pyjama shirt she had been wearing and watched rather emotionless as it, along with the bottoms that had been torn off of her earlier by Fitzgerald, were placed in a clear plastic bag for evidence. She had graciously slipped into Dennis's oversized university sweatshirt that he had pulled from his knapsack, and sank down beneath the blankets as the paramedics began their evaluation of her injuries.

Her breaths were short and ragged and Peter knew that she had broken a few ribs; her skin was plagued in bruises, some yellowing and greying in colour, others reflecting deep shades of purple and blue, while a fresh scattering of red contusions also littered her pale flesh. Her wrists were wrapped in gauze by the paramedics in order to stop the bleeding and chaffing caused by the handcuffs, and a mixture of dry and fresh blood stained her face and matted her hair from the gashes inflicted on her cheek and temple. Peter couldn't help the tears that stung his eyes in anger and frustration; her whole body looked as though it was causing her excruciating pain, and yet she looked as though she was taking everything in stride. She continued to amaze him, and he wanted to gather her in his arms and never let her go again.

_He couldn't believe this happened to her again._

He was shaken from his thoughts when Malone placed a hand on his shoulder, "they're going to move her to the hospital now; she'll need to be assessed and another rape kit will have to be collected."

"The animals who raped her are lying dead," Peter stated, "is there a need for her to undergo the trauma of another rape kit?" His brown eyes locked onto the detective's; his question wasn't angry or pointed in any way, and Malone offered him a sympathetic smile knowing he only asked simply out of concern for the woman he loved.

"I'm afraid so Mr. Barlow," she answered reassuringly, "in spite of everything, Fitzgerald _was_ a police officer, and that means that there will be a thorough investigation into his death. In order to not press charges upon Marcus, we will need all the evidence we can get to prove that Fitzgerald was involved in the kidnapping of Ms. Connor and her nephew Liam Connor, and that he caused Ms. Connor bodily harm; if we can do that, we can strip him of his decorations and avoid the possible pomp and circumstance of a public funeral for a deceased officer killed in the line of duty."

Peter nodded his understanding, "can I go with her?"

"Yes I think both you and Mr. McCarthy should go in the ambulance while we take Mr. Windass and associates to the station for further questioning," Malone responded as they headed towards Carla, "Ms. Connor?" she gently addressed the bruised and battered woman lying before her, "you will be taken to the hospital now for a thorough examination. Is there any of your personal belongings anywhere in this house that we can get for you?"

Carla gave a weak shake of her head, "only the clothes I had on the night I was brought here," her voice was hoarse and cracked as she spoke, "I put them ummm, in the empty drawer next to the bed in the master bedroom," her eyes remained downcast as she lowered her voice to a whisper, "everything else ermm-" she swallowed hard, "everything else Frank had purchased for me. They were already here when I arrived."

Malone nodded and gave her a small smile before turning back to Peter, "I'll go up and collect her things and bring them down to the ambulance. I'll be a few minutes; we'll need to photograph the room and drawer before I remove Ms. Connor's clothes." The detective turned her attention back to Carla, "and once you've been released from hospital we'll need to take a full statement from you, okay?"

"Okay," Carla responded emotionlessly, and Malone gave Peter a nod before walking out

Peter placed his hand on top of Carla's hair, before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, "I'm so proud of you sweetheart," he whispered lovingly to her as he leaned down to her eye level, "and I promise I will be here for you every step of the way." She lifted her head to look at him and he was slightly taken aback; her normally gentle and loving green eyes simply stared back coldly and blankly into his. She offered him a crooked smile, but he could see there was no feeling behind it. He felt his heart break and his eyes begin to water as she, and the gurney she rested on, began to move away from him. He stood staring as the paramedic wheeled her out of the room, his mind racing with worry, and not registering when Ciaran came to stand next to him.

"We ready to go?" his best friend asked him, laying a reassuring hand upon his shoulder.

"I'm losing her Ciaran," Peter whispered sniffling, "I'm losing her…"

"Come on mate," Ciaran stated giving his shoulder a squeeze, "you know that's not true! That woman loves you so much; more than you probably realize. But she has just been through an incredible ordeal, and maybe that's why she's distancing herself from everyone around her. She just needs time, that's all."

Peter ran the back of his hand across his eyes and stood straighter in an attempt to compose himself, "I hope you're right," he responded in a low voice, "'cause I don't know what I would do if I lost her now."

"You won't Peter. I promise you that you won't." Ciaran stated firmly, before nudging the bookie in the direction the gurney had just taken, "come on." At his friend's nod, the Irishman led him out of the house.

* * *

Michelle stood outside the hospital room, staring through the glass at the woman who appeared to be sleeping peacefully on the bed despite the multiple beeping machines that surrounded her. Her sister-in-law and best friend was barely recognizable when they wheeled her past them earlier that day, and it had nothing to do with the scratches and bruises that coated her exposed flesh.

No, it was her eyes; they seemed so dead, so vacant.

She had never seen Carla look that way before and it worried her to no end. She glanced to her right where a melancholic Peter sat next to her husband, staring at the wall opposite him and clutching a steaming disposable cup of coffee in his hands like a lifeline. They were all trying to register what the doctor had told them just after dusk; Carla had suffered a third-degree concussion, multiple contusions to her body, three broken and two cracked ribs, a fracture to her right wrist, a bruised sternum, and she had been raped twice in a span of hours, causing multiple internal lacerations. Peter had leaned the left side of his body against the wall for support upon hearing the prognosis, his fingers clutching desperately onto the discolored wall as he steadily took in deep breathes. Michelle and Maria had simply slid into their chairs, clutching each other for support as tears cascaded down their cheeks.

_How is she going to pull through this?_ Michelle wondered to herself as she watched her best friend mumble in her sleep, her fingers twitching and clutching at the linens beneath her.

"How is she?" A voice sounded from behind her, and she turned to see the concerned face of Gary Windass looking through the glass over her shoulder.

"Not great," Maria responded from next to Michelle, "but she's in the clear right now."

"What's the news on Marcus?" Peter asked, rising from his seat.

Gary took a deep breath and shook his head, "he's been arrested on suspicion of assault and possession of a firearm."

"You are joking?" Ciaran stated incredulously

Gary shook his head, "wish I was, but he's still at the station being interviewed."

"But Frank told us where the gun was; the only reason he had it was because Foster had it hidden in the house." Peter piped in angrily

"Yeah, and that's what we've told them," Gary responded, his arms crossed over his chest, "I'm sure it's just procedure. Once they check the serial number and link it back to Frank, Marcus should be in the clear."

"Let's hope so, he should be given a medal for saving all your lives." Michelle said

"Fingers crossed," Gary stated, "well listen I best be off, I'm going to wait at the station with Dennis. I just wanted to pop in and see how Carla was."

"Keep us posted okay mate?" Ciaran requested, giving the young redhead a friendly smack on the back.

"Same goes. See you in a bit." Gary smiled at them and walked solemnly down the corridor. A sudden erratic beeping caught their attention and they turned to look through the window where one of the machines next to Carla started flashing red.

"Nurse!" Maria screamed, running to the reception desk, "Nurse!"

Peter threw open the doors and planted himself next to a thrashing Carla. Her mouth was opened and she struggled to take in a breath; her eyes were wide and fearful, and her fingers clutched the sheet beneath her so tightly her knuckles were white.

"Carla, baby it's okay just breath slowly," Peter whispered to her, his fingers reaching under and clutching her palm in his, "please baby, listen to my voice, don't panic…" he let out a sniffle, his face scrunched up to stop himself from crying, "you're safe here, everything's fine."

He felt two hands pull him roughly away from the bed before forcing him outside of the room with the others. He leaned up against the window, his palms pressing into the glass above his head, his eyes flooding with tears as he watched them place an oxygen mask over Carla's mouth and nose.

"Her heart rate's dropping rapidly…" the nurse called to the doctor

"Prepare a sedative for her drip, and prepare for chest compressions…" the doctor delegated, watching as Carla's eyes fluttered closed as he moved around the bed and studied the paper that continued to feed out of the beeping machine. "She's going into shock," he stated, "get me another blanket!" he ordered before a much louder beep emitted from the machine, "damnit! We're losing her!" the doctor yelled moving to stand next to her as the nurses lowered the bed to a suitable height.

Michelle and Maria clutched to Ciaran, sobbing into either side of his chest while he, with tears of his own cascading down his cheeks, soothingly rubbed their backs. Peter remained pressed against the window, softly calling Carla's name between sobs. They all watched with renewed horror as the doctor grasped Carla's hospital gown with his hands between her breasts and in one swift movement ripped it apart. He positioned his hands above her sternum, palm over palm, and with a steady determination, pressed the heel of his hand into her chest, breaking the bone beneath. Without missing a beat he continued the CPR administration as a nurse wheeled in a defibrillator.

"Come on, Carla" the doctor ordered between pumps, "don't give up on us yet…"

* * *

She stood next to her prone body on the bed, watching as the doctor studied the paper feed from the monitor, _"She's going into shock," he stated, "get me another blanket!"_ she heard him call, and within moments she felt her fingers grow cold and tingly, she raised them up to eye level curiously when she heard the doctor yell, _"damnit! We're losing her!"_

'_Oh God t__his is it,_' she thought despondently, _'I'm dying…'_ Her eyes immediately gazed through the window to where her friends stood huddled together and crying, except for Peter…_her Peter_. He continued to clutch at the window, his forehead pressed up against the glass as he begged her to pull through.

"You should listen to him you know?" a voice sounded from beside her and she turned to see the smiling face of her husband, his arms open and beckoning to her.

"Pauly," she cried, launching herself into his outstretched arms, "Oh Paul I've missed you so much."

"Not as much as I've missed you kid," he responded, planting a gentle kiss on top of her head

She pulled back from him slightly, her arms still snaked up under his arms and fingers clutching the back of his shoulders, "am I-" she stuttered slightly, "am I dead?" she whispered gazing into his blue eyes.

"No, baby," he answered, raising one hand from her waist to her face and brushing away a stray hair and tucking it behind her ear, "not yet."

"Will I be? Is that why you're here?" She asked, a tinge of hope lingering on her voice at the thought that that she would finally be reunited with her husband

"I wish I were here to take you with me, so I could hold you in my arms for eternity," he whispered with a smile, "though I may have to fight our Liam for that role, eh?" he added with a chuckle, "but no Carla, it's not yet your time." He laid a kiss to her forehead, and pulled her into an embrace, her cheek pressing against his chest as he clutched the back of her head with one hand and ran the fingers of the other down her hair, "you have been through so much Carla, and you've been so strong through it all. Liam and I are so proud of you!" She gripped him to her at his gentle and loving words, feeling tears fall down her cheeks and an overwhelming sense of calmness overtake her; "but now you need to continue on baby, " Paul whispered in her ear, "you need to go back now."

"No!" she pleaded, holding him ever tighter to her, "no, please Pauly don't leave me! I'm not strong enough!" he pulled back from her slightly to gaze into her eyes, running his fingers down her cheek affectionately, "please," she sobbed quietly, "please just take me with you…" she pleaded

"You _are_ strong Carla; you're so strong love," He reassured her gently, using his thumbs to wipe off the stray tears that fell down her velvety cheeks, "and I will never leave you…" he cupped her cheek in his palm, "I'm always with you, and so is our Liam –" he gently tapped her chest above her heart, "right there. And we always will be."

She bit her trembling lip, not wanting to say goodbye to Paul again, "how am I going to get through this Paul?" she whispered, her voice cracking, "I barely made it through the first time, and I only just started getting over L.A…?"

"You'll get through it," Paul smiled and gestured with his head behind her to where Peter stood beyond the glass, "with his help; but only if you let him in, love."

With a sniffle, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a passionate kiss to his lips, "I love you," she whispered before kissing him again. She lowered herself down again so she was flat footed on the cold floor of the hospital room and rested her forehead against his chin, "I never stopped loving you…you saved me Pauly."

"No," he said kissing her head, "you saved me, sweetheart."

She could feel him starting to vanish beneath her fingers and she cried desperately to him, "No Paul! Please don't go!"

"I've never stopped loving you Car, and I'll never be gone," he said flashing her a smile, "not as long as you keep me in your heart."

She watched as his form became transparent and she felt herself being pulled backwards, further and further from him. She reached out her hand towards him, as the space between them became broader and broader, "Paul!" she called through her tears, "PAUL…"

* * *

"She's coming 'round!" a voice sounded above her as her eyes blinked repeatedly. The beeps from the machines beside her were steady, and she felt warm and surprisingly relaxed as she gazed into the doctor's soft blue eyes

"Welcome back Ms. Connor…"


	28. Chapter 28

_**A/N: Thank you all for the reviews and comments both here and on twitter.**_

_**Hope this chapter isn't too all over the place. I tried to put flashbacks/nightmares into bold italics, and Carla's thoughts and hallucinations into just **italics**. There is one scene that wasn't in previous chapters as I purposely left it out to be used as part of a flashback sequence. **_

_**Let me know if this update is too confusing please and I'll try to change it as best I can. :)**_

_**Please note the M rating, as this chapter contains references to mature subject matter.**_

_**Hope you all enjoy this latest installment; it was quite an emotional one to write...**_

* * *

"_**I loved you!" he shouted**_

"_**You lusted after me!" she spat. "You admitted that to me not two days ago. You wanted to possess me like I was some sort of prize to your ego." She firmly planted her feet, not wanting to cower from him this time. "And when I bruised your ego, you took what you thought was yours!"**_

"_**YOU ARE MINE!" Frank yelled as he grabbed the chair from her hands and whipped it at the wall. She barely had time to react before he quickly accosted her by the arms roughly and tugged her close to him, his face mere inches from hers. "Not his, mine!" She tried to wriggle out of his grasp but he kept a firm grip on her, his fingers digging into her skin like shards of glass…**_

"_YOU ARE MINE!...Not his, mine!" _his words echoed viciously through her mind. Her upper arms began to sting where his fingers had gripped into her. Her eyes twitched and a jolt of electricity coursed through her during her apparent peaceful slumber. She could feel him as she re-lived it all over again in vivid technicolor; remembering how he had kissed her relentlessly in that prison he dared to call _their_ home; how he had picked her up and slammed her down on the table; how he pushed her forcefully into the wall behind her, tearing open her clothes; how his lips were everywhere…violating… possessing…Little Liam crying in the background…

'_My nephew,'_ her head lolled against the hospital pillow, _'a deal with the devil; all for my nephew…'_

"_**Do we have a deal then?" he asked as he grasped her arms and pulled her to her feet with him.**_

_**She bit her quivering lip and nodded. He pulled her towards him and leaned in close to her cheek.**_

"_**I need to hear you say it Carla," he whispered into her ear, his hot breath tickling her lobe and neck.**_

"_**We have a deal, Frank." She whispered shakily. **_

"_**I'll arrange to have him brought back to Maria first thing tomorrow. I'm sure you'll want to spend a final night with him." He reached his arms around her lower back, pulling her closer to him, "but right now Carla Connor," he whispered, his voice husky with lust, "I want you." He leaned down and kissed her lips passionately, before pulling back again, raising her chin gently with his fingers to stare into her uncertain eyes, "And I want you to be a willing participant sweetheart, or the deal is off." He felt her shudder in his arms, as she took in a shaky breath. She closed her eyes, and gave a timid nod, reminding herself why she was agreeing to this. **_

_**Frank leaned down and captured her lips with his again, feeling her meekly return his kiss. He pulled the robe gently off her shoulders and used the material to further pull her into him, effectively trapping her arms at her sides, as he began to kiss her neck and chest. Still holding the material of her robe, his fingers traced up her arms, stopping as they approached her chest. With a very gentle touch, he began caressing the sides of her breasts; his fingers grazing softly over her nipples and extracting an involuntary gasp from her lips. **_

_**His mouth continued to lay kisses along the soft flesh of her neck, his tongue rolling over the dip between her collarbone and breastbone. She bit her lip to suppress a moan, cursing him under her breath for remembering all her sensitive spots, as she began to feel a heat start to race beneath her skin. Her stomach continued to churn in response, as if screaming at her to put a stop to what he was doing. **_

_**She couldn't stop though, no matter how much she wanted to. She had to ensure Liam would be free of this prison no matter what the cost to her. She didn't know how long it would take before she would be found, and she couldn't risk keeping Liam around Frank and his volatile mood swings any longer. **_

_**His lips made their way back up to her mouth and he lay another kiss upon it, his fingers now curling into the hair on the back of her head and pulling her closer. He turned her around and pushed her down on the bed. He pressed his body down on top of hers, making sure she felt his arousal as it pressed against her stomach. He propped himself up, his elbows on either side of her face, and looked down upon her.**_

"_**You're trembling." He whispered out of breath, his fingers reaching out to wipe the stray tears that had fallen down her face. She didn't respond, only closed her eyes and turned her head as he began to remove both their clothes….**_

A solitary tear escaped from behind her closed eyes and traipsed down her hot clammy cheek. She was feverish, and it did nothing but continue to spur on the relentless memories…

It was as if it was far removed from her, but she could feel a soft hand delicately grasp hers. The feeling of a thumb stroking her knuckles comforted her trembling body physically, but the gentle caress could not stop her inner turmoil.

'_Nightmares; how many more do I have to endure?'_ she thought helplessly,_ 'no, no not another…' _she pleaded desperately as the images disintegrated like a waterfall in her mind's eye and revealed yet another,_ 'no, no please let me wake up…please…'_

"_**How touching," Frank's words dripped of venom, "Your parting message to Barlow was particularly moving." He ran his hand over her hair possessively, as he leaned even closer to her, "You know how you said that he has your heart no matter what?" he watched as she rubbed her lips together nervously, "Tell me truthfully sweetheart; do you really believe that you'll still have his heart in its entirety? Even if you were to somehow escape me, and my foolproof plan goes down the tubes, he would eventually find out about our little trysts." He smirked evilly as her eyes brimmed with tears, "Do you think he'll have you then, Carla? Do you think he'll have you after he hears of how willingly you gave your body to me…" he moved a strand of hair away from her ear before whispering huskily into it, "over and over and over again?" She closed her eyes at his words, triggering the tears to fall down her cheeks. He reached out and wiped them away with his fingers, "You're mine Carla…" he whispered and she felt herself shudder at his words. He smiled as he gazed upon his prize, using his fingers to grasp her chin and turn her head towards his. Her eyes opened and looked into his, recoiling a little at the besotted look that gleamed there; he raked his eyes over her body possessively, before pulling her head towards his, "…you're mine." He captured her lips with a smoldering kiss, smiling as he felt her reluctantly respond.**_

"_You're mine Carla…you're mine." _ His lips on hers again, claiming her; owning her…her chest tightened and her breathing became ragged, she was suffocating under his kisses, under his naked body…

Her body began to thrash about…

'_no, no not again…'_

"_**Wh-why are you doing this?" her voice was barely audible and cracked as she tried to control her rising fear. He gave a throaty laugh and lifted his head from her chest to gaze upon her lustfully.**_

"_**Because this is the best way I can exact my revenge on Foster; I put my badge and career on the line helping him to ensnare you. I risked everything I had to help him because he helped me out long ago. But that little boyfriend of yours and your friends couldn't just let it go…they had to keep digging. And now, well now I'm going to lose my career and all because Foster fell in love with a woman who loved someone else and brought me down with him. So I'm going to get my revenge by taking the one thing that he loves and obsesses over, and making it mine."**_

Lips were on her again, claiming, taking, possessing, violating…she couldn't breathe. Her lungs ached, as they pressed against her ribs in rapid succession; she began to wheeze…voices surrounded her and she felt something cover her mouth and nose. She inhaled something cool, almost metallic; but while this cool metallic mist made it easier for her to breathe, panic surrounded her unconscious state, and her fingers grasped desperately to the sheets beneath her, her knuckles turning white, as another unwanted memory plagued her…

_**Fitzgerald thrust into her viciously, laughing maliciously as she cried out in pain under his large palm. His eyes closed in euphoric bliss as he continued his assault on her body. Her eyes were squeezed shut and tears draped down her cheeks effectively soaking his hand and he smiled lustfully down at her. He leaned in closer to her, halting his thrusts and awaiting her to open her eyes. Once the green orbs locked on his in both confusion and apprehension, he whispered "I was going to kill you gorgeous," he grinned evilly as her eyes widened in fear, "but I think I found a much more satisfying use for you…" he pressed a kiss to her cheek and instantly felt her whole body shake with violent tremors, as she struggled against her restraints. "Oh yes; you'll be an excellent source of relief from a long, 'hard' day…" He chuckled before he bit his lip lustfully, "God you are so tight," he said as he thrust into her again, extracting a muffled groan from her, "I can understand now why Foster is so obsessed with you; but now you are mine…" he hissed possessively before violently continuing his assault; well aware of the voices and movements of the others in the house as they searched desperately for the woman he was claiming as his own upon the guestroom bed...**_

'…_but now you are mine…'_ Fitzgerald's voice echoed through her mind in succession with Frank's.

…'_you're mine Carla, you're mine.'_

…'_but now you are mine…'_

…'_not his, mine!'_

Her head thrashed from side to side, tears cascading down her face as the machine next to her beeped incessantly. Her hair was being stroked soothingly, and a soft female voice called gently to her, but again she was trapped within her vicious mind…

"_**You think you're capable of hurting someone Carla?" Frank asked her gingerly, "you could barely get through calling off our engagement without breaking down." He watched as her bottom lip began to quiver, "do you really think you could deliver a fatal blow?" He whispered, slowly reaching for the knife...**_

Frank had been right; she couldn't deliver a fatal blow, and he ultimately had to step in…sacrificing himself and throwing her already confused and tumultuous feelings for him into a sudden nosedive…

"_**Just pick one Carla, it'll all be over soon." Fitzgerald continued to taunt her, his hand covering hers and pointing the gun at Peter. He could feel her strength as she tried to point away from the man she loved, and he smiled wickedly before pointing at Frank. The smile faded slightly upon her attempting to shift the gun away from him as well, "PICK ONE!" he shouted angrily into her ear, and she squeezed her eyes closed as his voice ricocheted off her eardrums, "Now Carla, or I'll do it for you!" **_

"_**No, please don't do this!" she begged him**_

"_**It's okay Carla," Frank's soft voice stated encouragingly, and she opened her eyes in shock. He had taken a step forward, "It's okay sweetheart," he whispered before looking at Fitzgerald, "kill me and let the others go. You can take the car, take the passport… just leave the country Donald before the cops catch on that you're here. Let Carla go…" his eyes locked lovingly on Carla's, "let her be with the man she loves."**_

"_**Don't be stupid Frank!" Peter pleaded, "he won't let it go that easily and you know it."**_

"_**I have to try," Frank replied and he smiled at Carla, "come on; kill me and let her go home with Peter." **_

"_**How touching," Fitzgerald sneered before poising the gun at Frank's chest, "well, you heard the man gorgeous."**_

"_**No," Carla stuttered shaking her head furiously and trying to fight against Fitzgerald's strength as it leveled the gun at Frank, "N-No," she cried again, "No Frank…please!"**_

"_**Say goodnight Foster," Donald mocked, his finger pushing Carla's into the trigger**_

"_**I love you Carla," Frank's whispered words carried over to her and she let out a mortified cry as the gunshot cracked loudly through the guestroom…**_

She knew she was screaming, and yet the sound was still strangely muffled by whatever was covering her mouth and nose. Her body was thrashing, hands and arms were restraining her and she continued to fight against them like a woman possessed. She was suffocating: her nightmares, her memories, they were all so vividly flashing before her…and with a forceful exhale, her eyes flung open, and began to hyperventilate.

_All she could see before her was them…all of them…Jimmy, Tony, Frank, Fitzgerald; each one holding a part of her body, restraining her to the uncomfortable mattress of the hospital gurney beneath her; each one smiling maliciously down upon her. _

_Her eyes widened as Tony leaned closer to her, his hand gently removing the oxygen mask that was placed about her mouth and nose, "__**'Your Liam'**__, Carla?" he tutted her mockingly, "that would imply that you were his as well…" he smiled derisively before planting a soft almost loving kiss to her lips, "mine, sweetheart…" he whispered against her trembling lips, "you're mine…" _

_She shook her head violently, tears cascading down her face, "no!"_

"Hold her down damnit!" commanded the stern voice of the doctor from the corner of the room to the several nurses who were piled up upon Carla's thrashing form, as he prepared a large needle…

_Carla's eyes shifted to Jimmy who gazed upon her with mild indifference, "Always thought you were a looker Carla," he whispered with a smile, "I was going to have some fun with you before I killed you that night in your flat…" his hand began slowly edging up her leg, "but maybe I can make you mine now, hmmm?" _

She struggled furiously against her restraints, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. "Holy shit!" came the muffled voice of an orderly, "Has anyone bothered to tell this woman that she shouldn't have the strength for this?" he demanded only partly in jest.

_Fitzgerald's fingers edged under her hospital gown; her eyes were wet in sheer terror as his fingers caressed her soft thigh and he licked his lips in raw desire, "__I can understand now why we are all so obsessed with you gorgeous… but now you are mine!"_

She let out another vicious scream, her thighs tensing and her back arching off the mattress; "Get those damn straps secured! She's going to scratch my eyes out!" cried the desperate voice of another nurse.

_Her gaze slowly shifted to Frank; his eyes were dark and smoldering as they were the night of September 21__st__…the touches of the other three men continued unabated upon her body, their hands stripping her of the hospital gown…Tony's fingers stroking her hair, his lips pressing kisses lovingly to her temple. _

"_They're wrong you know," Frank whispered, his fingers caressing her cheek and playing with a wayward strand of hair that clung to her damp cheek, "no matter how much they want to believe it…you are not theirs." She took in a shaky breath, her eyes pleading, begging with him for mercy from this torture. She let out a scream as Tony grasped both her wrists and pinned them above her head between his hands, while each of her legs were restrained by Donald and Jimmy. _

"_no, no please no…" she whimpered as Frank slowly climbed on top of her._

"_The only person you belong to my dear Carla-" he began, his hand lazily stroking her face, _

"_-please don't do this…" she begged him as tears flowed freely down her face_

"_-is me!" Frank smiled evilly before pressing his lips to her throat. _

_She stifled a sob and threw her head back and bore her eyes into her ex-husband's. Something had shifted in his demeanour; he was no longer mocking; no longer possessive…he was simply the Tony she fell in love with; "please Tony don't let him do this to me again…"_

_Tony's eyes filled with tears, as he stared down upon her, "I'm sorry sweetheart," he whispered, his voice wrought with emotion, "I wish I could stop him, but this isn't my dream…" she closed her eyes and sobbed as Frank's hands began his normal assault on her now restrained body. Suddenly she heard Tony's soft Scottish accent in her ear, "this is your nightmare Carla!" he pressed encouragingly, lovingly "…wake yourself up!"_

"It's like she has more limbs than an octopus!" grumbled another orderly as he ducked a blow from Carla's wayward fist, "Fuck! How is she doing this and managing to stay asleep?"

_"...come on sweetheart...just wake yourself up!" Tony commanded her lovingly..._

* * *

Outside the glass of Carla's room Michelle watched the attempts to restrain the thrashing woman, feeling herself become angrier and angrier as the minutes passed. She had been in the room with her when Carla first began to experience the nightmare she was currently enduring. Michelle had hovered over her, stroking her thumb over her best friend's knuckles in a vain attempt to soothe her. She moved onto to caressing her hair as the slumbering woman began to toss and turn, before she was viciously hauled out into the hallway by the onslaught of orderlies and nurses that bombarded into the small room and she could do nothing but watch in vain with Ciaran, Peter and Maria as the 'professionals' tried to rectify the current situation.

Her hands clenched next to her as she watched the scene before her; her heart shattered into a million pieces as Carla's screams pierced the quiet wing of the hospital. Peter had his back to the glass, his body bent over and his breathing erratic. Maria and Ciaran were also turned away from the scene; both with their eyes closed and hands over their mouths as they tried to control their racing hearts. They couldn't bear to watch anymore, and if Michelle wasn't so overcome with fury and rage, she probably wouldn't have been able to watch either. But she couldn't tear her eyes from the bed; they were manhandling her in there…they weren't paying attention to the names she was screaming, _'Tony', 'Frank'…_

Before she could stop herself she angrily wiped her tears with the back of her hand and stormed into the room, having seen enough of the pathetic display; "Alright! Everybody get off her… NOW!" She moved quickly across to the gurney and, with a surprising show of strength hauled one of the orderly's out of the fray, followed by another while the others tried to disengage themselves.

As the weight was removed from her body, Carla seemed to spring upright on the bed directly into the protective arms of her sister-in-law. One look into her haunted eyes, and Michelle knew that her friend was indeed still asleep, and experiencing one of those terrifying visions that would now often assault her dreams. Visions that she was desperately fighting violently against in her torment, lashing out at the multiple bodies that had attempted to quell her, as she sought her way back to consciousness.

As Michelle wrapped her arms tighter around her sister-in-law's trembling frame, the haunted look almost instantly faded from the dark green beacons of Carla's eyes. The tension and fear that had been flowing off of the raven haired woman in crashing waves, simply vanished, and with it went the adrenaline-fueled, superhuman strength that had enabled her to fight off the five people who had been trying to restrain her.

"Shhhh, it's okay love," Michelle assured her softly, her tone comforting and soothing. "I'm here now. You're safe here. They can't harm you anymore."

Her best friend slumped heavily against her; her eyes drifting closed as the younger woman's gentle words cocooned around her with a familiar love and protection.

"Alright Carla love; back to bed," Michelle coaxed her, "That's it, love; nice and easy," came the soothing encouragement as she got her sister-in-law to lay back down on the now dishevelled gurney. "Okay I'm just going to pull the covers up. That's it, good girl," she gently pressed the quivering woman back down before frowning heavily at the belted straps that had been attempted to be used to bind the woman to the bed. With the rage still pulsing through her, she grabbed the straps and whipped them at the group of nurses and orderlies who now stood huddled together, watching the scene unfold before them in absolute awe.

Once she had her friend tucked in, she slowly clambered into the bed beside her, tucking Carla into her body as comfortably as possible, and lightly brushing the dark hair away from the woman's damp cheeks before resting her own cheek upon her best friend's head. Her eyes glared at the dumbstruck doctor, "I don't think you'll be needing _that," _she hissed angrily, referring to the needle still grasped between the man's fingers, "do you?"

The doctor quietly and rather embarrassedly shook his head, before gently ordering the huffing and puffing nursing staff out of the room.

"Shhh Car," Michelle cooed to the woman in her arms as she rocked her back and forth, "I'm here now," she pressed a kiss to Carla's head, "I'm here…"


	29. Chapter 29

_**A/N: Thank you all for the kind reviews and comments. Here is the latest installment...I think it might be super cheesy, but hey: it's my fic and I'll make it cheese if I want to! ;)**_

_**This particular chapter is dedicated to LoveeCarlaConnor, who has been asking for a cute Carchelle scene...Hope i've done it justice! **_

_**Thank you all again for your support of this story :)**_

* * *

She must have held her for hours in that hospital bed. She simply couldn't bear to move for fear of awakening her from her seemingly peaceful slumber, despite her neck muscles aching in discomfort. She stroked Carla's matted hair, a smile tugging at her lips every time her sister-in-law would mumble incoherently before snuggling in closer to her. She was resting in the nook between Michelle's neck and chest, her breaths hot and tickling; her arm was draped across her torso, her leg wrapped around hers like a vine. She was craving safety; yearning for comfort even in her REM-like state. To those who didn't know her well, it would appear to be a very un-Carla-like action. But to Michelle, it was a recurring vulnerability in her sister-in-law that she had witnessed on many an occasion.

Her eyes continued to glance up distractedly at the fluorescent light that flickered abhorrently just above the door. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head sharply in order to remove herself from her trance-like state; _'staring at that light any longer would surely cause a seizure,'_ she thought to herself before lowering her gaze back down to the woman in her arms. But as her soft, brown orbs roamed over the sleeping woman, she was harshly reminded of the reason _why_ she was so desperate to look away in the first place.

For the third time in as many hours, the tears began to gush down her cheeks as she once again caught sight of the bruises marring her best friend's normally flawless skin. It didn't help that with every one of Carla's labored exhales, a slight wheeze was heard, a constant reminder of the broken ribs that were most likely pressing uncomfortably against her lung. But yet in this moment - this one perfect moment—the factory boss actually appeared serene; a hint of a smile gracing her lips that had Michelle curiously wondering of just what she could be dreaming about. With a sniffle, Michelle brushed her tears away with the back of her hand, not wanting Carla to see that she had been crying, and pressed a kiss to the top of her friend's head.

Carla stirred at the gentle contact, her eyes softly blinking open. She slowly gazed up to the woman who was holding her and smiled as she sighed.

"What time is it?" she asked, stifling a yawn

"I couldn't tell you Car," Michelle whispered, "I've lost all track of time."

"How long have I been asleep?" Carla asked, her voice hoarse and scratchy

Michelle bit her lip to try to contain her emotions, "ummm since they revived you, I'd say a solid eight hours or so….not counting the nightmare you endured; you've been pretty much sound for about five hours after that."

"'ave you been in here all this time?" she asked, her voice timid and small

"It was the only way to ensure you'd stop punching nurses," Michelle chuckled.

"When did I do that?" Carla snickered, slightly horrified.

"You must have been having a horrible nightmare; thrashing about, screaming," Carla shuddered, remembering the frightening and realistically lurid dream of being restrained to the hospital bed by Jimmy, Donald, Tony and Frank, "the nurses were trying to hold you down and you were fighting them off like a woman possessed. I came in, threw them off, and crawled in next to you. You just relaxed almost immediately. You've been sound ever since."

"You must have the magic touch then," Carla stated as she cuddled in a little closer to Michelle, ignoring the slight discomfort she felt through her ribcage.

"You gave us such a fright love," Michelle blurted out, her voice cracking as she stared into the sad green eyes that were now fixed upon her. A hot tear escaped and rolled softly down her cheek, "When the doctor started giving you chest compressions I-," she rubbed her lips together nervously, "I thought I'd lost you for good!"

Carla's brow furrowed in sympathy; she hated to see Michelle cry. She gingerly raised her hand to cup her sister-in-law's cheek, her thumb brushing the offending tear away along with the ones that followed steadily in its path, "hey," she whispered reassuringly, "please don't cry 'Chelle," she offered a crooked smile, "I'll be okay; I'm safe now."

"I just," she exhaled deeply as she closed her eyes and leaned her head back, "I just I can't begin to imagine what you went through in that house Car." She inhaled slowly, trying desperately to stave off the images that coursed through her mind. She was trying so hard to be strong for the woman she held in her arms, but the emotions that she had suppressed since Carla's abduction in L.A. now rose to the surface in abundance. "I'm sorry it took so long to get you out of there," Michelle weeped, unable to hold back any longer, "we-we…never stopped…looking…" she choked out shakily between sobs

"Hey shhhh, I know love," Carla cooed, hugging Michelle closer to her, "I know and I am so grateful to you all." She wrapped herself further into her friend's embrace, her own tears beginning to fall, "I was scared for a while there though," she sniffled, "I was starting to lose hope that Liam and I would never be found-" she inhaled sharply and tried to sit up, her eyes wide and wet with fear, "is Liam alright? Is he okay?"

Michelle nodded, urging Carla to lie back down and relax, "Liam's fine," she said pressing a kiss to her forehead, "he's absolutely fine and missing his auntie Carla."

"Oh thank God," Carla breathed out as she closed her eyes before collapsing weakly into Michelle's embrace once more.

"You were so brave babe," Michelle stated lovingly as she stroked Carla's hair, "sacrificing yourself to that monster for your nephew's safety," her face crunched up as she tried unsuccessfully to stop herself from breaking, "our Paul and Liam would be so proud of you!"

Carla felt a pang of guilt course through her. She had already lost Paul's only child; if anything ever happened to little Liam, to Liam's only son. A whimper escaped her lips at the thought...

"Are you in much pain?" Michelle's voice changed to one of concern, "are you even comfortable like this? I can get out and let you have the bed to yourself"

Carla's fingers desperately grasped at her shirt, "no please," she whispered shakily, her body trembling as she began to cry, "please don't leave me on me own," she sniffled and shifted ever closer to her best friend.

"Okay, shhhh" Michelle cradled the sobbing woman to her affectionately, "I won't leave you, I promise," she cooed lovingly to her.

She gently rocked her for the next hour, her fingers gently caressing her hair and back. She was beginning to think that she had drifted off again until her small voice broke through the silence;

"He had it planned all along 'Chelle," Carla whispered meekly, "everything. Right down to attacking Maria simply to drive a wedge between us."

"What do you mean babe?" Michelle asked gently, a nervous feeling befalling her

"Ever since we first met, he had it planned to buy into the factory; had it planned to make me rely solely on him business-wise as well as emotionally…" she swallowed the lump that lodged in her throat, "had it planned to get me into bed from the word go…"

_"Oh come on Carla, you must know the game: A man walks into a bar and sees a beautiful woman with her two friends; does he initially go for the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, or does he try to make inroads with her friends first?" He smiled as it dawned on her. "I wasn't stupid. I knew Michelle had a boyfriend, but I hoped that she would at least put in a good word about me with her beautiful boss. When she didn't because she ran off with the love of her life, I moved on to Maria. The only problem there was that, and you really should believe me when I say, that I would never have forced myself on her; she's not my type." He gave her a wink and she looked away in disgust._

_"So only women who are too traumatized to fight back are your type eh?" she whispered and he roughly grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced her to look at him._

_"Like I said," he continued ignoring her comment, "__she's__ not my type. But just from our few meetings I could see she was over protective of you, like she was worried about you for some reason. And I knew I'd have to drive a wedge between the pair of you in order to get closer to you, to gain your trust." She felt the bile churn in her stomach at how intricate his plan to bed her all along was, and the sickening way it had all worked like a charm. "The way you stood by her originally worried me for a time. I thought maybe I had gone too far and I had ruined my chances. But then I could see you cracking under the pressure from your workforce…and I knew I just needed to continue to get into your good books. I knew eventually yours and Maria's friendship would crack under the strain of our partnership." He moved his hand to caress her cheek once more._

_"So what was Tracy Barlow then Frank?" she asked, grasping at anything to offset the horror she felt at being played so meticulously._

_"Sexual relief." He breathed deeply, as his eyes roamed up and down her body causing her to shudder at his intensity. "I was aroused just being close enough to touch you, Carla. Anytime I was in the factory with you, sitting in the office with you, watching you as you worked… I needed a release, and I knew Tracy was hung up on her ex; it would be a safe fling with no deep emotional attachments. Plus, you were still obviously not over Peter Barlow and I just needed to bide my time." Her eyes narrowed in confusion._

_"Hang on, you didn't know about Peter until after we returned from Rome." She stated and he smirked again at her naivety, but she continued shaking her head at herself in disgust, "you know I should have seen this coming. It were like history repeating itself. Tony found out that Liam and I shared one kiss together and he proposed the very next day. You find out about my feelings for Peter and the next day you propose an' all. God, I was so stupid to not see yet another pathological jealous psycho standing right in front of me."_

_"Oh Carla," he gently shook his head and laughed, "I knew about you and Peter Barlow long before then." At her confused expression he said, "Remember the day of his and Leanne's blessing? How you were supposed to meet me in the pub afterwards? Well, when you didn't show, I questioned Sean and Julie as to your whereabouts and they were only too willing to spill the gossip on what they heard went down at the church." Her eyes widened in horror and she slumped further into her seat, feeling the bile rising up through her chest. "The way Peter called you out in front of the whole congregation, telling them you had tried to seduce him, even told him you __loved__ him," the word dripped of venom as it passed his lips and she felt herself heave, trying desperately to hold down the vomit at just how long he knew about her feelings for Peter, "and the way you ran out of the church in humiliation: 'a shoe-in for gold in 2012' I believe were Sean's words. So you see Carla, I knew all along about Peter; and it came in very handy towards my seduction of you..."_

"The bastard was more diabolical than I originally thought," Michelle sneered angrily, "I shudder to think what would 'ave happened to me had you not convinced me to go away with Ciaran when you did."

"Me too," Carla whispered, tears falling freely down her cheeks.

They sat in silence for a few moments, both trying to rid themselves of the horrible 'what-if' scenarios that plagued their tired minds; "How am I going to get through this 'Chelle?" Carla whispered, "I don't know if I can come back from this…"

"Yes you can Car," Michelle stated reassuringly, "you've got to; or else Foster and Fitzgerald will have won."

"I'm so damaged 'Chelle," her voice was barely audible, as she pressed her cheek into her sister-in-law's chest, "how is Peter, or any man for that matter, ever going to ever want me now?"

"Oh babe!" Michelle felt her heart shatter into a thousand pieces, "Peter loves you so much. He is beside himself with worry, and despite temptation Car he hasn't touched a drop of alcohol. He's been so focused on trying to find you and bring you home; he can't imagine his life without you."

"But I gave myself to Frank, Michelle…_willingly_. I let him-" her voice cracked as a sob escaped her lips and she was unable to finish her sentence

"No Car, it was _not _willingly!" Michelle stated firmly, grasping her friend's face between her hands and forcing her to look into hers, "he blackmailed you with your nephew's life. And you," she exhaled deeply, "you did something so heroic to secure your nephew's safety, and Peter knows that. He thinks the world of you babe and he will do anything and everything to get you through this. We all will." She watched as Carla's features furrowed together, and the tears began to flood down her pale face. She felt her insides churn as her best friend began to sob uncontrollably, and she could do nothing more than simply cradle her head and rock her back and forth.

Michelle took a steadying breath, breathing in through her nose and pushing out a gentle stream through her lips; before she could even explain her actions to herself, she began to sing;

_"You and I must make a pact, _

_We must bring salvation back, _

_Where there is love, _

_I'll be there..."_

Carla sniffled and chuckled against her, causing Michelle to grin as she stroked her hair lovingly,

_"I'll reach out my hand to you,_

_I'll have faith in all you do _

_Just call my name and I'll be there"_

Carla couldn't stop the smile that pulled at the corners of her lips; Michelle always had such a soothingly soft, and utterly gorgeous voice. She couldn't explain how, but she began to relax, the words offering a sense of comfort to her tired and exhausted mind. She snuggled in a little closer and closed her eyes, letting her sister-in-law's voice envelope her…

_"And if you should ever let Peter through,_" Michelle tapped her finger just above Carla's heart

"_I know he'd better be good to you,_

"_'Cos if he doesn't," _Michelle shook her fist dramatically in front of her, causing a loud laugh to erupt from the woman in her arms. She snickered along with her sister-in-law before craning her head forward and whispering into her hair, "come on babe, you know the words,"

"_I'll be there," _Carla sang whimsically

Michelle hugged her closer, "_I'll be there…_Come on Carla I can't hear you,_"_

Carla giggled before singing louder, _"I'll be there," _

"_Just call my name…"_

"_And I'll be there…" _They finished together, both barely above a whisper, as they wrapped their arms around each other.

"Love you Car…"

"Love you 'Chelle…"


	30. Chapter 30

**_A/N: Thank you all for the kind reviews and comments._**

**_Here is the latest installment, I hope you all enjoy! :)_**

* * *

_Three days._

Three days of sleeping and sitting in that hospital bed; 72 hours of nightmares, of tossing and turning, and staring at that damned flickering light above the door. _'Why can't they just let me go home?'_ she thought despairingly, craving the comfort of her bed and her soft duvet.

She shifted restlessly and let out a hiss at the shooting pain that traveled up through her sternum. With her eyes squeezed shut she took small, steady breaths so as not to put further pressure on her already bruised lungs and aching ribs.

_Pain. _

Her whole body was just oozing pain.

Burning…aching…pulsing…

Every limb, every muscle, every tendon. Each one screaming in agony.

And though each day was better than the last, it was still overwhelmingly debilitating. She leaned back against the pillows gently before allowing her head to roll towards the side table. Her room was adorned with flowers, get well cards, and bowls of grapes. She pursed her lips in deep thought, _'I didn't think I was well liked to be honest,'_

She sighed and gingerly reached for the stack of magazines Maria had brought in the night before, pulling them onto her lap and drawing her knees up, planting her feet firmly onto the mattress.

"_Celebrity gossip Carla,"_ Maria's voice echoed in her mind, _"the one constant thing that lets us know that our lives simply pale in comparison,_" _she giggled and Carla chuckled._

"_You 'ave a point love," she said with a grin, "nothing like reading about a sex tape scandal or a messy divorce to shake up our boring day to day lives eh?" _

"_Borin'?" Maria smiled smugly, "Oh darlin' our lives are anything but borin'. You see, there's this one friend of mine that seems to always be getting herself into these quite dramatic situations,' Maria teased and Carla smirked, 'has us constantly on our toes that one."_

"_Dump her," Carla stated teasingly, raising her mug to her lips, "she sounds high maintenance to me."_

"_Well I would but you see she's my sister-in-law," she shrugged her shoulders, "and I'm kind of fond of her, so…" _

_Carla smiled shyly at the hairdresser and grasped her fingers in hers, "I'm fond of you too…" she whispered running her thumb along Maria's knuckles._

_Maria let out a deep exhale, "Carla when Kirk walked through that door holding Liam the other day, I knew immediately what you had done," Maria whispered, "I mean I knew from the get go that you'd have done anything to keep him safe, but I never could 'ave imagined the kind of sacrifice you'd 'ave to make."_

"_His moods just changed like the wind," Carla whispered, her eyes looking down to her fingers, "He'd be attentive and caring and apologetic one minute, and the next he would be tearing at my clothes…" she felt a tremble course through her, "He would do it in front of Liam, or while he was in earshot, knowing I couldn't put up much of a fight. But Liam sensed sommit was wrong, and he would cry and I couldn't take it anymore." She raised her eyes to meet Maria's, "I couldn't let him stay in that house any longer; I didn't know when or if Frank would turn on him and I couldn't bear that to 'appen."_

"_So all Frank wanted was for you to promise to stay there? Give yourself to him willingly?" Maria flinched at the words as they passed her lips._

"_No, that wasn't his original plan," Carla scoffed, her eyebrows raising and her lips pursing together. _

"_Tell me," Maria encouraged._

"_He wanted a child," she responded in a low voice, trying to avoid Maria's widening eyes and swallowing the lump that rose to her throat, "he wanted something 'concrete' to ensure that I wouldn't try to run or…" she looked to the ground next to the bed, "or top myself."_

"_Oh Car," Maria sniffled._

"_I managed to convince him to let Liam go if I gave myself willingly to him. He was hesitant at first but he eventually accepted my conditions. But he continued to hold Liam's safety over my head by threatening to kidnap him if I tried to run, or __**permanently**__ tried to leave." She finally rose her eyes back up to the hairdresser's. "I'm so glad you found the note," she whispered with a grateful smile, "but how did you know which town to start looking in?" _

_Maria smiled crookedly, "A few hints here and there; Foster wasn't as clever as he thought he was."_

_They sat on the hospital bed, chatting and laughing at the articles in the magazine until the nurse arrived and announced that visiting hours were over. Pressing a final kiss to her forehead, Maria bid Carla goodnight and headed out of the room; leaving her alone once again to fend off her nightmares…_

A gentle knock roused her from her reading and she glanced up to the door.

"Hiya love," Peter greeted her, smiling as he entered the room carrying three large bouquets of flowers.

"Hi," Carla smiled back before accepting his tender kiss, "more flowers?" she snickered

"Oh uh, yeah," Peter fumbled with the bouquets before holding up a beautiful assortment of cream and purple blooms, "this one here is from Rita and Dennis," he handed them to her, watching lovingly as she leaned forward and smelled them, "this one is from Simon, and he wants you to know that he picked them himself with no adult assistance," she laughed as she accepted the bouquet of pale yellow and pink roses, "and this one here is from me," he placed his selection of orchids and roses on the table next to her.

"Peter you've already bought me flowers," she teased with a grin.

He smiled and leaned down to her, pressing his lips to hers, his hand caressing her hair. When he broke the kiss, he kept his eyes closed and leaned his forehead upon hers, "you deserve them, and more," he whispered. "You should be always be surrounded by roses and orchids."

She smiled and craned her neck so that their lips met once more. He took the other two bouquets from her and placed them on the side table. Removing his jacket and shoes he slid in next to her in the bed, raising his arm and indicating for her to snuggle in, which she did as gingerly as possible.

"God I missed holding you," she whispered, her voice cracking as her emotions again got the best of her, "I missed being in your arms so much."

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, "I missed holding you too, love. If I could keep you safe in my arms for the rest of our lives, I would you know?" he kissed her again, "I never ever want to let you out of my sight again."

"Then don't," she whispered. He furrowed his brows, her response catching him by surprise.

"What do you mean?" he asked softly.

"Don't let me out of your sight," she responded with a tremble, no longer ashamed of allowing her vulnerability to shine through, "at least not for the next little while…"

"Why don't you come and stay at my flat then?" he asked, genuinely shocked that she agreed so easily, "that way I can take care of you and I can pop up every now and again from the bookie's and check up on you during the day."

She pressed her cheek further into his chest, thinking hard about his request, "what about Simon?"

"What about him?" Peter queried

"Well shouldn't we run it by him first? Maybe he won't want me there," she stated.

"Of course he'll want you there; actually he was asking if we should go and stay at yours while you were on the mend."

"Did he?" she asked in surprise

"Yeah I reckon he likes your tv," Peter snickered into her hair

She chuckled, "well maybe I could stay at yours for a little while, and then maybe you and Simon could come and stay at mine for a few weeks while I get back on my feet."

"Is that a yes then?" he asked, his heart flipping in his chest.

"Well I'll need some clothes, but yeah…it's a yes."

He pulled her close to him, careful not to hurt her further and planted kisses along her hairline. As she snuggled in closer to him, she heard the distinct sound of crumpling paper. Leaning back slightly, she pressed her pointer finger against the pocket of his jeans, "what's that?" she asked curiously.

"Oh umm," he sighed, _'you have to give it to her sooner or later,' _he chastised himself. With an exhale he reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded envelope and handed it to her. He helped her to sit up, and watched pensively as her brow furrowed in curiosity at the sachet in her hands.

She eyed it carefully, her fingers unfolding it and staring at the name etched across in clear handwriting

_My Dearest Carla_

She swallowed hard, recognizing the handwriting upon it, and was almost immediately thrust back in time…

_Frank clutched at his stomach; his skin was now covered in a thin sheen of sweat and he began to shake involuntarily as his eyes rolled back into his head. Carla licked her lips and gingerly grasped his fingers in hers. He opened his eyes, and smiled softly as he gazed upon her. He tried again to cup her cheek, and let out a sigh of relief when she didn't flinch from his touch, "I…left…you…a…note," he forced out between heavy and shallow breaths, "on…mantle…" she nodded her understanding and he released her cheek, his hand crashing down onto the floor as it became too heavy for his weakening body to sustain… _

"This is what Frank left for me?" she asked in a whisper.

Peter nodded and watched as her hands began to shake. He placed an arm around her shoulders and used his free hand to tilt her chin up to look at him. He could see the fear behind her eyes; the way her lips trembled caused his heart to break, but he smiled encouragingly at her, "you need to open it baby," he whispered, "you need to know what he wrote or you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

"I'm surprised the police haven't opened it yet," she said, her eyes glancing back to the envelope in her hands and running her finger along the still intact seam.

"They didn't have a chance," Peter stated and she looked back to him, "I took it before they knew it was even there. I figured that you should be the one to read what he wrote first and foremost, no matter what might be in it; then we can give it to Malone if you want to."

She glanced down again apprehensively, and he pressed a kiss to her temple, "come on baby. I'm right here with you."

She slowly began to tear open the sachet, but halted and shook her head as tears formed in her eyes, "no," she whispered, "I can't." He sighed sympathetically, giving her a reassuring caress before his eyes fell to the envelope, "can you read it?" she asked timidly, holding it towards his hands, "please?"

He nodded, taking the envelope and laying a series of kisses across her forehead again. He waited for her to get comfortable, her head resting on his chest, before he pulled the letter out and unfolded it.

The first word caused his blood to boil but he pushed down his rage and anger; he had to do this for her, _"Sweetheart,"_ he began reading,

"_Words cannot express just how I feel at this particular moment in time. I am not used to feeling guilt and remorse, having been raised as a child that people are deserving of whatever horrid circumstance befell them. _

_I am sitting at the dining room table, where you collapsed just hours earlier as a direct result of my actions over the last few months. _

_I admitted to you on your first day here that I had schemed to get into you into my bed from the moment I first laid eyes on you. But please do not think I did so cruelly. I only manipulated my way into your life because I knew that I wouldn't have_ _stood a chance otherwise. _

_It was not my intention to have the incident with Maria play out as it did. But once it happened I unfortunately had to follow through. I was too entranced by you to let you go without a fight. _

_Carla, you are stunningly gorgeous; breathtaking, smart, funny, and an overall wonderful self-sacrificing woman; and you don't know that you are all these things which makes you all the more attractive and loveable. You put on a show of self-confidence and a 'Queen Bitch' attitude to those around you; but I could sense that you were vulnerable underneath all the designer clothes and your winning smile. As you admitted to me the first night we spent together, your strong exterior is just a front to those around you…and that confession made me fall more in love with you than I already had been. You showed a side of yourself to me that you admittedly never shared with many people. _

_You had been hurt so badly in the past, and I sincerely wanted to make you happy. I wanted to protect you, to love you…_

_I had hoped everything with Maria would have smoothed over, and that your feelings for Peter would have subsided. But when they didn't I panicked and marriage was the only way I could attempt to keep you as my own. _

_I made many a mistake Carla; I never meant to hurt you the way I did, especially the night before our wedding…the night you broke it off with me. I was so angry and confused and clouded with rage. It is no excuse, but I offer you my heartfelt apology…_

…_and the promise that I will be turning myself in within the next few days._

_I will not lie and insult your intelligence by stating that I did not take delight in your pain. I enjoyed breaking you, because it was what I was taught to do when a woman hurt me the way you had done. I enjoyed hearing your pleas, enjoyed the fight you gave each and every time I asserted my dominance over you. But when it was over, I felt hollow, empty…guilty. _

_As I held you tonight after taking advantage of your weakened state, you awoke from a nightmare of sorts, and in your hallucination you thought I was Paul. I played upon it at first, but as you continued to sob into my chest, telling me how much you loved me and missed me, I realized that I simply cannot continue to hurt you anymore._

_I came down here tonight to write this letter. We don't communicate well face-to-face sweetheart, and I know it's because my anger often gets the better of me. I will be contacting the person who was aiding me, and I will inform them that there has been a change in plans. I ask that for your safety and that of your nephew, that you do not name him in this investigation. I will ensure that you are brought home within the next few days, and I will turn myself into Malone. _

_But in the last few days we spend together Carla, I humbly ask you for a favour, even though I am not deserving of one; I ask that you give me a chance to explain to you about my past; my relationship with Emma and my father, and why I am who I am today. I ask that you please give me the chance to beg your forgiveness even if you choose never to accept it. _

_And I ask simply for the answer to the one question that has plagued me since the night you called off our engagement: _

_Did you at any point in our relationship, ever love me?_

_I love you Carla Connor,_

_And I fear I always will…which is why I must let you go…_

_Yours always,_

_Frank _

Peter placed the letter down on his lap, and licked his lips nervously as he awaited her reaction.

Carla however, did not utter a single word.

She simply lay in Peter's arms, her cheek pressed against his chest as she gazed at the letter strewn upon his lap, a single solitary tear escaping from her eye and splashing upon the paper below…


	31. Chapter 31

_**A/N: I can't apologize enough for the delay in updating this and my other fics. **_

_**I Hope this chapter will buy me a bit of forgiveness...**_

_**Special thanks to my Canuck Noeme for all her help on fleshing out this update! :) #Corcece**_

_**Hope you all enjoy, and thank you so much for all your love and support of this fic.**_

* * *

His fingers idly twirled the tumbler in his hand; his eyes hungrily scanning the still untouched amber liquid his body was throbbing for as it swirled and sloshed along the crystal sides.

Peter would be the first to admit that he never could handle pain well, or any sort of emotional angst for that matter. Whether it be himself experiencing it or those around him, he felt the urge to remove himself from the whole uncomfortable and encompassing feeling by numbing his body and mind from the inside out.

Scotch, gin, tequila, vodka…any one of them would have done the trick in the wee hours of that particular morning, but it was Irish Whiskey that he had stumbled upon in Carla's bar cabinet as he trudged around her flat in a futile effort to fight his insomnia. He had found three bottles: one sealed, one opened, and one empty with a ribbon and tag around it. His curiosity got the better of him and he carefully pulled it out to read the inscription,

_To my big brother Paul and his gorgeous wife Carla,_

_Happy housewarming! When you become big shot high rollers, do us a favour and try not to forget us little people!_

_P.S. Car, best way to my brother's heart is through his whiskey. Always leave a bottle or two of this around, for when I pop over. I'll be sure to drink him under the table so he'll stop nagging at ya!_

_Love always,_

_Liam_

He had smiled at the card before feeling a wave of sympathy gush through him. After all this time, she still kept two bottles in the cabinet; perhaps a subconscious wishful hoping that Paul or Liam would wander through the front door, alive and well once more.

And now as he sat at the dining room table, his eyes periodically coming to rest on Carla's bedroom door, he felt his heart sink deeper into his chest. Since her release from the hospital her recovery had begun, he thought, quite positively despite his initial apprehension to the letter that Frank had left her, but she appeared to have to taken it in stride, in typical 'Carla' fashion. Though it had taken a few days to regain her appetite, she was surprisingly up for receiving company and even for attending a dinner at Ken and Deirdre's.

But Peter had also noticed that she was far more jumpy than usual. There would be times when a door would slam in the hallway, or a loud crack would ring out from one of Simon's video games and she would involuntarily jump; her eyes widening in fear and her skin paling as her fingertips gripped whatever surface was closest to her. Within seconds she would visibly relax, breathe a sigh of relief and poke fun at herself in a half-hearted effort to ease the mood; a habit that Peter couldn't help but love about her.

However, in spite of her attempts at retaining a bubbly and lighthearted demeanor, there were those bone-chilling moments when he would catch her simply staring at a distant spot within the flat, as though she could see someone that no one else could. Despite their initial worry at these odd moments, her loved ones had all brushed these off as minor setbacks; originally seeming to simply be an obvious response to the physical and emotional traumas she had endured since September.

But now, after what occurred earlier that night, Peter, along with Ciaran, Michelle and Maria, had all painfully witnessed just how well Carla had been hiding the extent of her suffering from them all…

* * *

_**Five hours earlier…**_

He could feel his heart pounding in his ears as he raced up the steps to the flat, taking them two at a time with Ciaran on his heels. He had known this whole 'girls' night in' fiasco would be a mistake from the word go and had expressed as much to Michelle and Maria, but they had both convinced him in their assurance that they wouldn't allow Carla to drink more than what they knew she could handle. So he reluctantly gave in and joined his best mate for a night in the pub.

He couldn't put his finger on it, but Peter knew something was wrong the moment he kissed his girlfriend good-bye; he had a horrible feeling that something bad was going to occur that night, and those fears were unfortunately confirmed when his mobile rang just hours later. The sound of her voice breaking on the line, the heaving sobs echoing around her, had caused his breath to hitch painfully in his chest as he tried to make some sense of her incoherent pleas to him. She had let out a vicious scream - ordering someone to leave her alone - and the sound of the breaking glass that followed was enough to jolt him into action. He pushed himself from the table and rushed out of the Rovers with Ciaran hastily following behind him, speaking abruptly into his own mobile at a rather hysterical sounding Michelle.

He didn't remember getting into Ciaran's car, or the drive to Draper Mills Apartments itself except that it had felt like an excruciatingly longer one than usual. He did however, remember jumping out of the car before his friend had finished parking, frantically pulling out the access card that would gain him entry to the building and holding the door for Ciaran as he jogged to catch up. Upon reaching the top of the landing, they had come face to face with the two tear-stained visages of Carla's sisters-in-law as they awaited the men with bated breath outside of the flat.

"Where is she?" he asked, his tone full of worry

Michelle wiped a tear from her cheek, "she's locked 'erself in the bathroom," she responded with a rather shaky voice, "she's refusin' to come out."

"I heard breaking glass?" Peter stated questioningly, his eyes darting between the two women, "well? What was it?"

"We think she might 'ave broken the mirror over the sink," Maria answered softly, "but we don't know for certain because she won't unlock the door; she just keeps crying and screaming at us to go away."

"And she were mumbling something about some girl and shoutin' that she didn't want to hear our explanations anymore," Michelle explained, running a hand through her hair

"Girl?" Peter's head snapped up, "What girl?"

"I don't know, she was just mumbling a name over and over," Michelle responded frantically as fresh tears streamed down her face, "Emily…or Maia…"

"Emma?" Peter breathed forcefully.

"That's it, yeah!" Michelle answered with a nod, "do you know her?" she pressed curiously, but Peter's eyes simply widened in horror

"Why did she lock herself in the bathroom in the first place?" Ciaran interjected.

As the two women exchanged an uncomfortable look, Peter felt his blood boiling beneath his skin.

"How much has she had to drink?" he asked, his voice cracking as his fists clenched at his sides

"Only a glass of white, Peter" Maria answered meekly, "look, it were my fault okay? I drank too much and I made a stupid comment that was directed at Carla but it weren't intentional I swear!"

"What did you say?" Peter asked, his jaw tightening in frustration. When Maria shook her head in response, he took a menacing step towards the hairdresser, "Maria, I'm not going to ask you again," he warned thinly

"Everything was going really well Peter," Michelle began, placing a comforting hand on Maria's shoulder, "Carla was enjoyin' herself, we were all havin' a right laugh; and then Maria started telling this story and we started teasing her that she must be reading things wrong," Peter nodded stiffly, encouraging her to continue but having a sinking feeling as to just where this was leading…

_Carla's head was thrown back in sheer relaxation on her best friend's chest as she laughed at Maria's story; her one hand rested delicately upon one of the thighs that were wrapped along either side of her, her other hand balancing her wine glass upon her own drawn up legs, as Michelle leaned back against the armrest of the sofa softly playing with the factory boss's hair; "and Marcus didn't bat an eye when Liam threw up all over him?" as Maria shook her head, Carla laughed, "I'm tellin' ya 'Chelle, that nephew of ours 'as got a touch of our Paul and Liam's penchant for troublemaking!"_

_Maria refilled the wine glasses and chuckled as she sat back comfortably facing her sisters-in-law, her left leg curled beneath her body, "Actually," a blush spread slowly across her cheeks and her look now becoming rather doe-eyed, "I think Marcus might 'ave a bit of a crush to be honest…"_

"_What, on Liam?" Carla teased before recoiling teasingly from the hairdresser's playful slap. _

"_No you cheeky cow!" she giggled before becoming serious again, "I don't know how you would describe it; but I know it isn't in my head. It's all in the way Marcus stares at me sometimes. It's all rather intense like."_

_"Whoa, 'ang on a minute," Michelle spluttered her wine and sat up straighter, inadvertently pushing the woman resting between her legs to a seated position as well, "what are you sayin' Maria?" she exchanged a humorous look with Carla before fixing the hairdresser with a questioning gaze, "are you sayin' Marcus might 'ave a crush on **you**?"_

_Maria took a sip of wine, "Hey, I've got a sixth sense about these things you know? I think that he just might." Her brows furrowed quizzically and she too sat up a little straighter, "I'm a little offended though. Why the tone of surprise Michelle?"_

_Carla recognized the defensive edge in the hairdresser's voice and immediately tried to quell the emotion that was quickly escalating within the flat, "well it's just a bit of a shock Maria; I mean it was just quite a jump in the story you know?" she stated with a little laugh, "we were talkin' bout Liam throwing up his pudding one minute, to talking about Marcus being sweet on you the next; it were just a surprise that's all."_

_"Well yeah, and the fact that he's ummm gay?!" Michelle added rather tipsily. Carla exhaled and closed her eyes briefly before turning her head and throwing her best friend a warning look._

_"Don't be so crass Michelle!" Maria bitingly retorted, "Not every man in a homosexual relationship is strictly gay. By the way he looks at me, it's quite obvious that he's bisexual! I am telling you no gay man looks at a woman like that." She moved her gaze from Michelle to the woman still sitting between them, "and Carla there was nothing wrong in the way I told my story. Marcus was around when I was feeding my son; Liam threw up on him and it led me to talk about why I think he likes me as more than a friend. And anyways, even if I hadn't been telling that story in the first place, why should I not talk about it? I thought you two were supposed to be my mates!"_

"_Maria, we **are **your friends," Carla confirmed, resting her hand on the hairdresser's, "we just don't want to see you get hurt-"_

_Maria gave off a chilling laugh, "bit rich coming from you Car, to be perfectly frank." She immediately regretted her choice of phrase as Carla visibly recoiled before her. She was about to apologize when Michelle's shrill voice rang through the deathly quiet flat._

"_Hey! Don't you talk to her like that! She didn't do anything wrong 'ere-" _

_Maria's eyes narrowed at Michelle; her earlier regret and concern for Carla now replaced by months of pent-up defensive anger, "oh no," she stated sarcastically, "she never does n'out wrong does she?" _

_Taking a deep breath, Carla shifted uncomfortably in her seat, "okay, I think we're all gettin' a little off topic here!" She stated firmly. She really didn't need this petty arguing right now. "Look Maria, I never meant to upset you I was just pointing out why the news came as a bit of a shock to us that's all. Marcus is a great guy but," she sighed as she mulled the words carefully in her mind before speaking them, "are you sure that you might not just be reading his caring for you as a good mate as more than that?"_

_"Oh my God," Maria exclaimed as she let out a scornful snort, "are you serious? **You** are going to lecture **me** on the art of 'reading people' Carla?" she chuckled sarcastically, "well I guess I should be honoured really, I mean you read men so well after all, right? I mean **you** would never get the signals wrong or anything, isn't that right? _

_Carla pursed her lips as Maria's words hit her soundly through the chest, "well that was below the belt," she mumbled guiltily._

_Maria downed what remained of her wine and slammed the glass onto the coffee table, "Yeah, you know what? You two are right: I must be horrible at reading men after all! You know, I could really go for some 'expert' advice from the woman who was sleeping with my 'usband behind my back!" Carla visibly flinched and closed her eyes at the venom oozing from the hairdresser's mouth, "I mean, I had said all along that my fiancée was in love with his sister-in-law, but noooo I was just crazy ol' paranoid Maria, right 'Chelle? Wasn't so paranoid though when it all came out after Liam's death though was I? Oh and let's not forget how wrong I was at suspecting Tony was hiding secrets about my husband's death. Yeah, I really read **him **wrong too didn't I? Only I forget Carla, **who** was the person who organized your precious lover's death?" _

_Carla didn't respond, instead taking the opportunity to rise to her feet and put as much space between herself and Maria as possible. As she approached the kitchenette she froze immediately in her tracks. Her breathing began to quicken and her heart pounded in her chest as her eyes were transfixed upon the door and the man that now leaned arrogantly against it. She quickly turned and glanced at her sisters-in-law, hoping that they were also alerted to this sudden and unwelcome presence, but they simply continued to scream the odds at each other; completely oblivious to what was occurring before them._

"_You're recovering well sweetheart," Frank whispered to her, crossing his arms over his chest smugly, "I'm so very proud of you."_

_She closed her eyes and shook her head, 'no, you're not real…you're not real…' she thought frantically._

"_Of course I'm real darling," he said soothingly, "I'm here for you; just like I was when I was alive, and just as I've always been since my death."_

_She re-opened her now tear-filled eyes and shook her head more forcefully, "no" her voice cracked, "no I want you to go…"_

_"Car?" Michelle called gently from her place on the sofa, "Carla, what's wrong?"_

"_Now we both know I won't be leaving, Carla," Frank chuckled, "I didn't leave the last time you asked me either, remember?"_

_Maria rolled her eyes and poured herself another glass of wine, "oh nothing's wrong with her Michelle! Stop making everything so dramatic. She's not made of glass so you can stop tiptoeing around her an' all!"_

_Michelle's head snapped back to the hairdresser, "you drunk, selfish little cow!" she snatched the wine glass out of her sister-in-law's hand and rose to her feet, "I'm tip toeing around Carla? The woman has been raped, kidnapped twice, and then raped again, over and over!"_

"_Oh I don't know about that," Frank said in response to Michelle's outburst, a smirk tugging at his lips as he scratched his chin, his eyes roaming Carla's body from head to toe, "there were those few times the night before I let little Liam go that you gave yourself to me rather willingly…three times in one night if I'm not mistaken," he winked at her, "and how glorious those three times were my dear…"_

_She bit the inside of her lip, "no…please stop…"she choked out in a whisper_

"_Carla?" Michelle tried once more but upon receiving no response she turned her worried gaze onto Maria, "Okay, I know I'm not overreacting 'ere! Summat's wrong with her."_

_Maria rose to her feet, "I think you might be right 'Chelle," she agreed quietly, an apprehensive feeling overtaking her as she caught sight of Carla's hands digging into the granite counter before her, "Carla?" she called to her gingerly, "Carla, just come sit back down with us alright."_

"_No sweetheart," Frank stated almost lovingly, "they can wait. We have unfinished business darling."_

_Carla began to shake more violently as tears now cascaded down her face, _

_Michelle took a tentative step forward, "Car, love? _

"…_no, no, no…"_

_"Oh my God, what's wrong with her?" Maria screeched worriedly, "Carla?!"_

"_You need to hear my explanation about Emma sweetheart. You must hear my explanation for everything," Frank cooed as he pushed himself away from the door…_

_"Car," Michelle called gently to her, "love, we're sorry for fighting okay, but its all over now, just come back 'ere eh?" _

_Carla began to edge around the counter away from Michelle, her eyes still fixed on the door, "No! No I don't want your explanations…"_

_Maria placed a hand on Michelle's shoulder, silently warning her to slow down her approach so as not to frighten their sister-in-law further, "look Carla," Maria whispered lovingly as they both stepped closer, "we all get a little heated sometimes and say things we don't necessarily mean, alright? Especially when we've been on the booze, so just come sit back down hey, and we'll throw on a DVD or summat."_

"_Don't try to run from me Carla," Frank warned her as he took a step closer to her trembling body, "You can't escape me. I won't hurt you sweetheart, I never wanted to hurt you. I only ever wanted to take care of you…"_

_As Michelle and Maria neared ever closer, their sister-in-law suddenly let out a shrill scream, "NO! GET AWAY FROM ME!" Her eyes never leaving the smirking image of Frank, she backed quickly into the bathroom and slammed the door shut as a terrified Michelle and Maria tried desperately to wrench the door open._

"She were in there for about ten minutes mumbling about not wanting to hear explanations about Emma, or anything that we had to say really. She started getting really incoherent at one point, that's when she must 'ave called you," Maria finished as she wiped her tears away with the back of her hand.

"Did she mention Frank's name at all?" Peter asked quietly,

"No, why?" Michelle questioned, "Peter, who is Emma?"

"It was Frank's girlfriend a long time ago, and apparently the girl who he held responsible for turning him into the monster that he was. Her name was mentioned in a letter Frank left to Carla before he died. Said he wanted her to give him a chance to explain his actions; but obviously Carla isn't interested in hearing his-"

"-his explanations!" Michelle finished horrified, "oh God, do you think she's been hallucinating seeing him around now?"

"I'm not hallucinating…" the timid voice caused them all to turn sharply to the entrance of the flat, where a visibly shaking Carla stood covered in a sheen of sweat and tears. "Oh I know what you're all thinkin'," she croaked out as her body trembled under their worried gazes, "You all think I'm crazy but I'm not!" she whispered forcefully through her tears.

Michelle took a step forward, "Carla, nobody said that love!" her eyes dropped to the jagged gash on Carla's left hand and the blood that oozed down her fingers and puddled by her feet on the floor. "Car, let's get that hand of yours cleaned up okay? We can talk about this afterwards-"

Carla stepped back warningly, shaking her head as she looked from one worried face to another, "No!" she breathed out, "no, I can see it on all your faces; but I'm not crazy, alright?" the sympathetic glances directed towards her caused a spike in her anger; gritting her teeth and breathing more erratically, she narrowed her eyes at them and raised her voice, "I'm not! I _see _Frank and he _**is**_ here!" she yelled purposefully.

Peter stepped towards her lovingly, "We know, baby-" he began, his hand stretching out to caress her face but she moved out of his reach, her eyes now flooding with fresh tears and her lower lip quivering as she tried to suppress a sob. Before they could blink, she had turned and run back into the bathroom, locking the door and collapsing against it as sobs once again wracked her body.

Peter and Ciaran were the first into the flat, "Carla? Carla!" Peter shouted as he tried to force the bathroom door open, "C'mon Carla, open this door. Carla! Open this door!"

Ciaran's eyes scanned the door, hoping they could simply remove it from its frame, but sighed despairingly upon realizing the hinges were on the other side, "Maybe we can jimmy it," he thought quickly, "I'll get a knife!"

Peter pressed his forehead against the cool wood, his heart breaking in his chest at hearing her gut-wrenching sobs on the other side, "Carla, baby," he pleaded, "baby open this door please!"

Carla pushed herself to a standing position and turned on the taps at the sink. Her throat was hoarse and dry from crying; she cupped some cool water into her palm and brought it to her lips. As the liquid trickled soothingly down her throat she suddenly stiffened, feeling him behind her. She stood up and spun around, her back pressing into the sink as her fingers gripped the porcelain basin behind her.

"Carla, stop crying sweetheart, please?" Frank whispered

"Go away!" she screamed desolately

"I'm not going anywhere, Carla," Peter stated firmly

"Not you!" she sobbed looking at the door, "Frank!"

Peter began pressing down more purposefully on the door handle, as panic overtook him, "is Frank in there with you?" he turned his head sharply over his shoulder, "MICHELLE!"

"Carla, just give me your hand sweetheart," Frank cooed stretching his hand out before him, "I'm the only one who can help you through this…"

Carla's body began to tremble with rage, "I said just go! **_YOU'RE NOT REAL!_**" she screamed at him, but when he only smirked at her she grabbed the stool and with a grunt, launched it towards him. The chair passed right through him, shattering the glass door of the shower.

"What the hell was that? Carla!" Maria screamed from behind Michelle as Ciaran tried to jimmy the lock with a butter knife

"Carla?" she heard Peter call to her desperately as she sank to the floor against the door, "What was that? Are you alright?"

She couldn't respond to him, her head was spinning about her as the shards of glass from the shower door and the mirror she had broken earlier nicked and sliced into the exposed skin of her legs and hands. She sobbed heavily, and pressed her back further into the door as Frank calmly leaned against the wall beside her.

Michelle's fingers gripped her hair as she watched Ciaran and Peter try unsuccessfully to crack the lock, "_**CARLA OPEN THE DOOR!**_" she screamed helplessly, falling into Maria's comforting embrace as the two women sobbed helplessly.

"They don't believe you Carla," Frank tutted, "they think you're crazy, but you're not sweetheart,"

Carla rolled her head back and forth along the wood behind her, "Yes, I am." she whispered hoarsely, "I am crazy."

Peter gripped Ciaran's hand to stop his futile efforts and calmly whispered through the door, "Carla, I don't think you're crazy alright? And neither does Michelle, or Ciaran or Maria okay? Just please come out here baby."

Her eyes were still fixed on Frank as he crouched down before her, his lips twitching into patronizing smirk, "Yes, you do," she breathed out shakily, "how can you believe me when you can't see him…"

Peter shook his head, his palm pressing against the wood of the door as his eyes brimmed with tears. He had to be strong; he had to be stronger than whatever pull Frank was having over her mind. "No, we don't think your crazy, Car. I believe you, baby. Look sweetheart, I believe that you're seeing Frank right now and talking to him, but you know what? It's not fair that he can see me but I can't see him. So Carla, baby, I need you to do me a favour, love: I need you to tell me what Frank is saying to you."

Frank ran his fingers down Carla's cheek, "That's right sweetheart; no one understands you but me. I'll take care of you from now on; all you have to do is say the word…"

Ciaran sat back on his heels, his back leaning against the counter as he ran his fingers through his hair, "come on Carla," he whispered as he gazed at the door separating them from her, "come on love, fight this,"

"Can you do that for me baby?" Peter asked gingerly, hastily wiping away the tears that traipsed down his cheek.

Frank continued to caress her face, his fingers capturing her chin and running his thumb along her lower lip, "You can't trust anyone else, sweetheart. Deep down you know that. We share a connection that you don't share with anyone else. They don't understand this - They don't understand _us_."

"He says I can't trust anyone else but him," she whispered meekly through the door, "that we share a connection that you don't understand."

Peter let out a sigh of relief that she was complying with him, "okay," he breathed out calmly, his heart pounding viciously in his chest, "tell Frank that he's wrong sweetheart. I may not understand everything that's going on with you right now, Carla, but I understand _**you**_. Tell Frank that."

Frank's eyes darkened as they bore into her own frightened green ones, "you're the one that did this to me Carla," he whispered accusingly "You're the one that brought out this anger in me. But I need you now; I need you to help me get through this, and I can help you as well. You have to choose between me and Peter, Carla. Let me take care of you. I'll make you better."

Carla shook her head free from his touch, "he's saying I have to choose between you both, Peter" she choked out, not quite believing what she was hearing

Peter took a deep breath and closed his eyes, "Frank's right, baby," he agreed firmly "You do. You do have to choose."

"What are you doing?" Michelle hissed, "'ave you lost your mind?" but Peter silenced her with a wave of his hand.

"What are you saying Peter?" Carla whispered fearfully

"Peter," Ciaran hissed warningly, "you know what the doctor said on her release; that she could continue to exhibit symptoms of Stockholm Syndrome! Don't be daft mate…"

The bookie rested his forehead against the wood, his palm firmly pressing into the door, "you have to, Carla. You have to choose between us and you have to let the other go. You have to let go of whatever guilt you feel towards that person, and you have to move on with the one you know is going to be able to be there for you and help you through this," he felt his heart sink deeper into his chest and his voice cracked with raw emotion as he spoke next, "and I'm begging you from the bottom of my heart, to please, baby please choose me."

There was no movement on the other side of the door, and Peter, along with the others surrounding him, slowly began to panic.

"Baby, open this door, come out, and choose me." His eyes welled up with tears when Carla made no move to emerge from the bathroom. He could feel himself cracking; he couldn't lose her to Frank now, not after everything they've been through, "Sweetheart you are so special to me," he sobbed loudly, allowing the tears to run freely down his cheeks before inhaling sharply in an effort to suppress the sobs that now wracked his body, "you give so much to everybody around you; to Michelle, to Maria, to Ryan and to little Liam…and you know what, Carla?" he closed his eyes and whispered, "I need you more than Frank does…"

Frank shook his head as he ran his fingers through her hair, "That's not true sweetheart, you know that…"

"Carla," Peter continued lovingly, "you never gave up on me when I was lying in that 'ospital bed last year, only I was too stupid to realize what a treasure you were then. But I will never take you for granted again baby; you didn't give up on me, so I'm not going to give up on you. So please, Carla," he pleaded despairingly, "for the love of God, come out here and choose me. Please..."

The silence that befell the flat caused the next minutes to pass like days. Ciaran moved to sit beside Peter, laying a supporting hand on his best friend's shoulder, while Maria and Michelle simply held each other as they continued to succumb to their tears.

The lock of the bathroom door suddenly clicked, and the four held their collective breaths as the door opened to reveal a trembling and sobbing Carla.

With a cry of relief, Peter pushed himself to his knees and drew her into his arms, pulling her down with him as they collapsed into a bundle on the hardwood floor, "C'mere, c'mere," he sobbed into her hair as he cradled her closer to him, "You're alright baby, you're safe now…."


End file.
